SRLF 


PR 

4515 

X7 

B8 

1894 


jD;?«^f- 


CALl.  ORNIA 
GO 


T 


fV  j 


mimiimil 


srlf 

45(5 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 

MR.   JOHN  C.   ROSE 


A  BUNDLE  OF  LIFE. 


PseuJonyin  Library. 


THE 

PSEUDONYM  LIBRARY. 

1.  Makar's  Dream. 

2.  Herb  of  Love. 

3.  Heavy  Laden. 

4.  The  Saghalien  Convict. 

5.  The  School  of  Art. 

6.  A  Bundle  of  Life. 


JOHN  OLIVER  HOBBES 


A  BUNDLE  OF  LIFE 


NEW  YORK 

J.  SELWIN  TAIT  AND  SONS 

65  Fifth  Avenue 

1894 


Copyright 

J.  SELWIN  TAIT  AND  SONS 

1893 


A  BUNDLE  OF  LIFE 


BY 


JOHN  OLIVER  HOBBES 

AUTHOR  OF  "  sinner's  COMEDY,"   "  SOME    EMOTIONS 

AND  A   MORAL,"   "  A  STUDY   IN  TEMPTATIONS," 

BTC. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Arclnive 

in  2007  witln  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.archive.org/details/bundleoflifeOOIiobbiala 


PROLOGUE. 


I. 


IR  SIDNEY  WARCOP  was 
a  gentleman  who  had  been 
bom  with  many  good  and  per- 
fect gifts,  but  he  had  pawned 
them  to  his  Adversary  for  a  few 
casks  of  brandy  and  a  little  soda. 
In  his  early  manhood  he  had  been 
considered  a  handsome,  dashing 
young  buck  of  the  old  school,  a 
three-bottle  hero,  a  sad  dog,  an 
irresistible  rake — a  good-hearted 
devil.  Now  he  was  reformed,  how- 
ever, and  reformation  had  meant  in 


PROLOGUE. 


his  case,  as  in  that  of  many,  the 
substitution  of  many  disagreeable 
virtues  for  a  few  atoning  sins?  Once 
over-generous,  he  was  now  frugal ; 
once  fearless,  he  was  now  discreet ; 
once  too  loving,  he  was  now 
indifferent  ;  once  a  zealot,  he  was 
now  unprejudiced  ;  once  candid,  he 
was  now  abyssmal — in  a  phrase,  he 
was  the  embodiment  of  gentlemanly 
correctness,  well-bred  honor,  and 
polite  religion. 

At  the  age  of  six  and  twenty  he 
had  surprised  society  in  two  ways  ; 
first,  by  running  away  with  his 
enemy's  wife ;  and  secondly,  by 
marrying  the  lady  on  the  death, 
some  months  later,  of  her  distracted 
husband.  Eighteen  years  had  now 
passed  and,  by  living  in  close  retire- 
ment. Lady  Warcop  was  become  a 
much-sought-after  person.  She  had 
suddenly  inherited,  too,  a  consider- 
able fortune,  and  as  views  on  mar- 


PROLOGUE. 


riage  are  only  immoral  (as  it  would 
seem)  when  one  cannot  afford  to 
pay  for  them,  it  was  not  so  much 
a  question  whether  her  ladyship 
would  be  received,  but  whether  she 
would  receive.  And  she  gave  such 
delicious  dinners  !  The  early  trans- 
gression of  Sir  Sidney  and  his  wife 
was  forgotten,  and  their  daughter 
(whose  age  was  a  subject  delicately 
avoided  by  the  feeling  and  discreet 
world),  was  receiving  her  education 
in  a  convent  abroad.  It  is  possible 
that  she  would  have  remained  there 
always  and  ended  her  life  as  a  nun, 
but  for  the  great  interest  most  un- 
expectedly shown  in  her  welfare 
by  a  rich  and  childless  aunt — her 
mother's  own  sister — Mrs.  Con- 
stance Charlotte  Portcullis. 

The  heart  of  Mrs.  Portcullis  was, 
as  it  were,  a  moral  scent-sachet, 
which  she  refilled  with  the  fashion- 
able perfume  of  each  season,  scatter- 


PROLOGUE. 


ing  the  musk  of  the  old  year  to 
make  room  for  the  myrrh  of  the 
new.  This  custom — which  is  com- 
monly called  Toleratioii — won  for 
her  numberless  acquaintances  of 
every  rank  and  opinion,  among 
whom  it  would  it  have  been  hard 
to  decide,  which  expressed  his  or 
her  contempt  for  the  lady's  uncer- 
tain principles,  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate manner.  Mrs.  Portcullis 
had,  nevertheless,  one  fixed  and 
unalterable  idea,  and  that  had  ref- 
erence to  Lady  Warcop.  She  held 
that  her  appalling  conduct  had 
brought  perpetual  disgrace  on  that 
distinguished  family  the  Tracy  Tot- 
tenhams,  of  which  she  and  her 
ladyship  were  members.  Years 
passed  and  the  sisters  never  met. 
Mrs.  Portcullis,  of  Belgrave  Square, 
and  Lady  Warcop,  of  Curzon  Street, 
were  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth 
asunder. 


PROLOGUE,  5 


They  were  brought  together  at 
last  in  a  street  accident.  Mrs. 
Portcullis  was  thrown  out  of  her 
victoria  and  driven  home  half  in- 
sensible in  Lady  Warcop's  broug- 
ham, which,  by  a  dispensation  of 
Providence  or  the  interference  of 
Satan,  happened  to  be  passing  at 
the  time  of  the  catastrophe.  On 
recovery  from  the  shock  Charlotte 
felt  constrained  to  write  to  her  sister 
in  pious  and  forbearing  terms — 

"  Since  the  Almighty, "  she  wound 
up,  "has,  in  accordance  with  His 
inscrutable  Principles,  chosen  a 
weak  and  sinful  agent  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  His  all-merciful  design 
(the  preservation  of  my  life),  I  must 
accept  this  as  a  sign  that  He  desires 
me  to  unbend  from  my  former  at- 
titude of  just,  if  reluctant,  severity. 
If  He  has  seen  fit  to  forgive  you  for 
the  disgrace  and  reproach  you  have 


PROLOGUE, 


brought  on  our  once  stainless  name, 
my  duty  as  a  Christian  forbids  me 
to  make  any  further  comment  on 
your  crime.  But  I  cannot  refrain 
from  adding  that  my  unceasing 
prayers  for  your  repentance  have 
no  doubt  furthered,  more  than  it 
would  become  me  to  say,  this 
miracle  of  grace. 

' '  I  will  receive  you  this  day  week 
between  two  and  four. 

'*  Your  affectionate  sister, 

"  C.  C.  Portcullis." 

Like  Lady  Lurewell  in  the  comedy, 
Mrs.  Portcullis  could  dress  up  a  sin 
so  religiously  that  the  devil  himself 
would  hardly  know  it  of  his  making. 
It  is  certain  that  she  deceived  her- 
self, and  on  reading  over  the  fore- 
going she  almost  felt  the  prick  of 
her  immortal  wings — which  prick, 
as  Plato  tells  us,  is  to  the  soul  what 
the  cutting  of  teeth  is  to  the  infant 


PROLOGUE. 


But  Lady  Warcop's  state  of  mind  on 
receiving  the  letter,  and  her  con- 
sequent remarks  to  the  effect  that 
Charlotte  always  was  a  hypocrite,  a 
cat,  and  a  fool,  need  not  be  insisted 
on  here  ;  for,  remembering  Char- 
lotte's wealth  and  several  others 
matters,  she  wrote  her  reply  in  so 
meek  and  quiet  a  spirit  that  the 
hasty  utterances  of  her  unconsider- 
ing  tongue  shall  not  be  known  till 
the  last  Judgment.  Although,  as 
we  have  said.  Lady  Warcop  had 
gained  for  herself  a  certain  sneaking 
acknowledgment  from  so-called 
good  society,  her  own  sister's  re- 
fusal to  recognise  her  had  always 
been  a  stumbling-block.  There 
were  still  many  desirable  acquaint- 
ances who  would  not  wink  until 
Mrs.  Portcullis  winked,  and  this 
consideration  was  of  such  moment 
to  Blanche,  who  only  lived  now  to 
meet  the  right  people  in  the  right 


8  PROLOGUE. 


way,  that  rather  than  miss,  the 
chance  of  reconciliation  with  Char- 
lotte, she  would  have  performed 
even  a  more  severe  penance  than 
did  Henry  11.  at  the  shrine  of  St. 
Thomas  of  Canterbury.  So  giving 
much  incidental  praise  to  the 
Creator,  but  much  more  to  Mrs. 
Portcullis,  she  wrote  to  say  that  she 
would  call  at  Belgrave  Square  on 
the  day  and  between  the  hours 
named  in  Charlotte's  most  kind 
letter,  and,  begging  her  to  continue 
her  fervent  supplications  to  Heaven, 
she  remained  her  devoted,  if  un- 
worthy, sister  Blanche.  She  dis- 
played very  correct  taste,  Charlotte 
thought,  in  omitting  the  ill-gotten 
name  of  Warcop. 

11. 

Lady  Warcop  was  a  woman  of 
medium  stature,  elegant  mould, 
and  cautious  smiles.     Deep-set  blue 


PROLOGUE, 


eyes  and  a  very  low  brow,  a  nose 
inclined  to  the  Roman,  and  a  tell- 
^  ing  mouth  ;  a  smooth,  rather  pale 
complexion  and  innocent  fair  hair 
were  the  most  remarkable  points  of 
a  countenance  which  fascinated 
reason  and  looked  reproach  at 
distrust.  At  least  seven  years 
younger  than  Sir  Sidney,  and  of 
singularly  youthful  appearance,  she 
affected  an  artless  manner  and  dis- 
played now  that  childish  merriment 
not  seen  in  children,  and  now  that 
rudeness  which  passes  for  sincerity 
and  is  usually  found  in  the  disingen- 
uous. A  being  with  many  emo- 
tions but  no  heart,  with  ideas  but  no 
thoughts,  there  was  so  little,  even 
in  her  folly,  to  excite  interest,  that, 
in  calling  her  stupid,  friends  said 
their  best  and  enemies  their  worst  of 
her  character.  But  the  strong  force 
in  Lady  Warcop  was  her  sex  :  weak, 
untruthful,  cowardly,  and  malicious, 


10  PROLOGUE. 


she  was  still  no  more  than  woman 
may  be,  and  it  was  no  slight  virtue 
— though  a  negative  one — to  have 
kept  this  feminine  quality,  to  have 
retained — after  a  life  of  sham  pas- 
sions and  passionate  shams — that 
indefinable  Eve-like  pathos  which 
from  the  beginning  conquered  — and 
until  the  end  will  conquer — the  rig- 
our of  strict  criticism. 

Mrs.  Portcullis,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  big-boned,  loud-voiced,  and 
mighty,  and  so  aggressive  in  her 
merits  that  she  would  have  been 
more  acceptable  and  pleasant  for 
one  of  Lady  Warcop's  cowering 
faults.  Her  high,  white  forehead 
and  long  chin  gave  her  a  grand  and 
monumental  air,  which  her  widow's 
cap,  crape  robes,  and  such-like  par- 
aphernalia of  woe  made  the  more 
emphatic. 

The  meeting  between  these  two 
ladies,  who  had  hated  each  other  so 


PROLOGUE.  1 1 


long  and  so  cordially,  was  of  the 
most  edifying  and  tender  nature. 
Blanche,  who  had  intended  to  be 
dignified  though  pious,  fell  to  mis- 
erable weeping,  and  Charlotte, 
touched  by  what  she  supposed  was 
the  sacrifice  of  a  contrite  heart,  pro- 
nounced, goddess-like,  a  solemn 
benediction  on  Blanche's  bowed 
head.  Lady  Warcop's  tears,  how- 
ever, were  those  of  suppressed  rage 
and  spite,  and  Charlotte's  comfort- 
able words,  "I  will  make  no  ref- 
erence to  the  past,"  sent  her  into 
fresh  spasms  of  g^ief.  She  remem- 
bered every  quarrel  of  their  earliest 
childhood  :  how  Charlotte  had 
always  been  the  "good  "one,  the 
"forgiving"  one,  the  one  "who 
would  grow  up  a  comfort  to  her 
parents,"  the  one  who  conscien- 
tiously picked  plums  out  of  her  cake 
because  they  were  bad  for  her — 
which   plums,  by-the-by,  she   used 


PROLOGUE. 


to  drop  on  the  plate  of  the  less  self- 
controlled  Blanche.  Not  vainly, 
alas  !  But  then,  Charlotte  did  not 
like  the  taste  of  plums,  preferring 
caraway  seeds  !  The  plum  story 
loomed  big  in  Lady  Warcop's  brain, 
and  she  howled  —  not  for  her  own 
sins,  but  at  the  remembrance  of 
Charlotte's  treachery  some  thirty 
years  before,  when  they  both  wore 
pinafores,  and  were  only  learning 
to  be  hypocrites. 

"I  would  not  have  known  you," 
sobbed  her  ladyship,  "  how  you 
have  changed !  What  trouble  you 
must  have  had  !  Oh,  Charlotte  ! 
and  to  meet  after  all  these  years — 
two  old  women  !  When  I  was  last 
in  this  room  you  wore  a  mauve  silk 
and  it  went  so  well  with  your  com- 
plexion— you  used  to  have  such  a 
beautiful  colour  and  there  was  not  a 
line  on  your  face — or  at  least  there 
were  only  a   few  ;  but   now — who 


PROLOGUE.  1 3 


would  think  you  were  the  same 
creature  ?  " 

"You  are  more  fortunate  than 
I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Portcullis,  smil- 
ing horribly,  "for  you  have  a 
grown-up  daughter  to  remind  us 
of  your  lost  attractions  !  " 

Blanche  gasped,  but  although 
she  felt  the  weight  of  Charlotte's 
blow  she  was  not  sufficiently 
skilled  herself  to  appreciate  its 
science. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  growing  red, 
"  do  you  mean  Teresa  ? " 

"Surely,"  quoth  her  sister,  in  a 
tone  of  horror,  "  there  is  but  one  I 
could  mean  !  " 

Lady  Warcop  lifted  her  eyes  and 
gazed  as  bravely  as  she  dared  at 
the  miniature  of  the  late  William 
Duncan  Portcullis  which  reposed 
on  Charlotte's  adamantine  breast. 
This  miniature,  however,  only  serv- 
ed to  produce  in  Blanche  the  kind 


14  PROLOGUE. 


of  panic  which  we  may  suppose 
would  fill  any  weak  creature  who 
saw  scalps  adorning  the  person  of 
a  warlike  adversary. 

"Tell  me  about  Teresa,"  said 
Mrs.  Portcullis,  choosing  the  sub- 
ject most  humiliating  to  her  sister. 

"She  is  at  school." 

"  I  understood  she  was  in  a 
convent." 

"Yes,"  faltered  Lady  Warcop, 
"there  is  a  school  in  the  convent !  " 

"  From  a  Romish  point  of  view 
such  equivocation,  I  know,  is  not 
considered  disgraceful.  Our  relig- 
ion, thank  God,  is  not  so  easy ! 
You  must  send  for  her  at  once. 
She  is,  if  I  remember  rightly,  eigh- 
teen and  a  half,  and,  not  to  hurt 
your  feelings,  she  can  only  retrieve 
the  lamentable  circumstances  of 
her  birth  by  making  a  good  mar- 
riage. Although  we  have  not  met, 
my  dear  Blanche,   you   have  been 


PROLOGUE.  1 5 


ever  in  my  mind,  and  the  altera- 
tion in  my  appearance  which  you 
find  so  startling  is,  no  doubt,  mi- 
raculously evident  to  you  because 
your  disgrace  has  been  its  sole 
cause.  Blessed  with  the  kindest 
of  husbands  and  a  good  con- 
science, I  have  had,  nevertheless,  a 
constant  sorrow — that  sorrow  was 
my  sister's  shame.  Oh !  do  not 
suppose  I  utter  this  as  a  reproach  ! 
I  name  it  because  I  think  my  long 
years  of  grief  give  me  the  right  to 
express  a  very  strong  opinion  on 
the  subject  of  your  unhappy  child's 
education  and  future.  Your  own 
sense  will  tell  you  that  she  must 
be  guarded  far  more  strictly  than 
other  girls.  For  instance,  she  must 
not  be  seen  at  balls,  theaters,  race- 
courses, country  houses,  or  the 
like,  but  must  rest  content  with 
dinners,  oratorios,  and  good  works 
for  the  poor. " 


l6  PROLOGUE. 


"You  are  too  kind,"  said  Lady 
Warcop,  who  had  listened  with 
astonishing  patience  to  her  sister's 
speech,  "but  I  do  not  wish  Teresa 
to  leave  the  convent  at  present. 
She  is  extremely  happy  there,  and 
I  can  only  wish  that  at  her  age  I 
might  have  found  such  a  peaceful 
home  far  removed  from  the  tempta- 
tions and  wickedness  of  this  deceit- 
ful world !  As  for  her  marrying,  I 
have  too  much  reason  to  regret  my 
own  early  marriage — the  cause  of 
all  my  trouble — to  wish  the  poor 
child  to  risk  a  similar  mistake." 

"You  did  not  leave  dear  Douglas 
for  a  richer  man  !  "  said  Mrs.  Port- 
cullis, in  a  tone  which  implied  that 
if  Blanche  had  made  a  more  discreet 
choice,  her  sin  would  have  been  less 
odious. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Blanche; 
*'  but  I  left  a  man  who  did  not  under- 
stand   me  for  one   who You 


PROLOGUE.  17 


know,  Charlotte,  that  Sidney  could 
make  himself  very  agreeable.  There 
were  many  women  who  would  have 
been  far  readier  than  I  was  to  run 
away  with  him.  Indeed,  he  has  often 
said  that  it  was  my  resistance  which 
chiefly  excited  his  admiration,  and 
if  I  had  not  been  so  firm  on  my  side, 
he  would  not  have  been  so  deter- 
mined on  his.  I  saw  that  from  the 
first,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  the  hours 
we  spent  arguing  the  matter  from 
every  possible  point  of  view.  He 
used  a  great  deal  of  persuasion  (and 
you  may  be  sure  I  would  not  have 
wasted  a  thought  on  him  if  he  had 
not),  but  I  took  the  final  step  with 
great  reluctance.  We  may  have 
been  foolish,  but  we  meant  no 
wrong.  I  was  unhappy ;  he  was 
kind  to  me  ;  we  were  both  young. " 
' '  Sir  Sidney  was  certainly  young," 
said  Mrs.  Portcullis.  ' '  As  for  you, 
I  can  make  no  excuse  on  the  ground 


1 8  PROLOGUE. 


of  your  age,  for  I  always  blame  the 
woman  in  such  cases,  and,  to  my 
mind,  it  does  not  matter  in  the  least 
whether  she  be  sixteen  or  sixty.  But 
it  is  a  subject  I  must  refuse  to  dis- 
cuss with  you,  since,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  it  is  inexpressibly  painful 
to  me.  Let  us  return  to  the  pressing 
and  all-important  question  of  Te- 
resa's future.  I  would  suggest  that 
you  send  for  her  at  once,  and  then 
you  may  bring  her  with  you  to  a 
small  dinner  I  am  giving  on  the 
twentieth.  The  Dundrys,  the  Paget- 
Herons,  and  a  few  other  old  friends 
of  mine  are  coming." 

Blanche,  who  had  been  hopelessly 
hoping  these  many  years  for  a  smile 
of  recognition  from  the  Lady  Dundry 
(known  among  her  intimates  as 
"Arabella,  dowdy,  but  exclusive"), 
no  sooner  heard  that  magic  name 
than  her  whole  demeanor  changed. 
The  little  dignity  and  resolution  she 


PROLOGUE.  19 


had  assumed  fell  like  a  veil,  and  it 
was  soon  agreed  between  the  two 
women  that  Teresa  should  be  sent 
for  on  the  morrow. 

"The  nuns  must  bring  her  to 
London,"  said  Blanche,  "for Sidney- 
hates  the  Channel,  and  it  is  death 
to  me." 

Yet  she  had  crossed  it  on  the  great 
occasion  of  her  elopement. 

III. 

Four  days  after  this  interview  be- 
tween Lady  Warcop  and  her  sister, 
Sir  Sidney  might  have  been  seen 
making  his  way  towards  Bedford 
Row.  In  person  he  was  unusually 
handsome,  his  head  and  features 
reminding  one  in  a  striking  degree 
of  the  popular  representation  of 
Cicero,  while  his  extraordinarily  bril- 
liant blue  eyes  and  lively  hair  did 
full  justice  to  his  Celtic  origin.  As 
in  the  case  of  Agamemnon,   there 


PROLOGUE. 


were  many  men  taller  than  he,  but 
in  a  crowd  he  was  not  to  be  matched 
for  grace  and  majesty  of  movement. 
There  was,  however,  a  certain 
studied  ease  in  his  gestures,  a  pre- 
meditated charm  in  his  manner, 
which  to  those  who  disagreed  with 
his  politics  made  insincerity  seem 
the  sincerest  thing  about  him.  But 
if  he  had  not  a  guileless  soul,  he  had 
at  least  immaculate  linen,  which  so 
dazzled  the  spectator  by  its  purity 
that  to  a  cynical  mind  it  might  have 
seemed  that  in  this  generation  a 
good  laundress  is  more  useful  than 
a  clean  record. 

When  Sir  Sidney  entered  the  pri- 
vate office  of  Mr.  Robert  Waddilove 
(of  the  firm  of  Waddilove,  Shorn- 
cliffe,  Shorncliffe,  and  Pride,  Soli- 
citors), Mr.  Waddilove  rose  from 
his  chair,  bowed,  and  remembered 
the  time  when  he  would  have  called 
on   his    client   and   trifled   away   a 


I'ROLOOUE.  2 1 


pleasant  morning  with  scandal, 
choice  cigars,  incomparable  sherry, 
and  a  "little  matter  of  business," 
which  came  last  and  was  invariably 
left  "  to  your  discretion,  Waddi- 
love."  But  now,  oh  heavy  change  ! 
Even  as  the  Baronet  entered  he 
looked  at  his  watch. 

"Not  detain  you  ten  minutes," 
he  said,  speaking  rapidly,  and  as 
though  he  were  dictating  a  telegram. 
* '  Not  legal,  but  domestic.  Wife 
most  annoying.  Teresa  coming 
home.  Wife  in  hysterics  every 
time  girl's  name  is  mentioned.  No 
living  in  the  house." 

Waddilove  rubbed  his  chin.  He 
was  a  man  of  middle  age,  short, 
but  so  compactly  built  that  to  look 
at  him  made  one  think  of  bricks 
and  cement.  His  quick  brown  eyes 
were  remarkable  for  their  curiously 
mingled  expression  of  shrewdness, 
scepticism,  and  good    humor,  and 


PROLOGUE. 


his  wry  mouth  showed  that  if  he 
drank  in  life  like  a  worldling,  he 
swallowed  it  like  a  philosopher. 
His  nose  was  of  the  penetrating 
order,  and  seemed  to  have  jutted 
prematurely  from  his  forehead, 
which  was  broad  and  thoughtful. 

His  under-lip  twitched  a  little  at 
the  close  of  Sir  Sidney's  remarks. 
"We  will  call  this  a  friendly  chat," 
he  said  quietly. 

"Eh? "said  the  Baronet,  with 
a  radiant  air,  ' '  not  professional  ? 
Well,  after  all,  it  is  not  a  legal  mat- 
ter. But  you  are  quite  sure  ?  Still, 
between  such  old  friends  any  ques- 
tion of  business  and  that  sort  of 
thing  is  unpleasant  Conversation 
becomes  restrained  at  once."  He 
chose  a  chair,  and  sat  in  statuesque 
ease. 

"You  know  what  women  are," 
he  said. 

Waddilove    closed  his    eyes    as 


PROLOGUE.  2^ 


though  he  would  exclude  a  painful 
vision. 

"You  know  what  my  wife  is," 
continued  Sir  Sidney. 

The  lawyer  looked  grave,  in  the 
formal  manner  appropriate  to  the 
discussion  of  family  skeletons — a 
manner  not  so  much  indicative  of 
pity,  which  might  verge  too  much 
on  the  familiar,  as  of  concern — dis- 
interested, brain-felt  concern. 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  against 
Lady  Warcop,"  said  her  husband. 
"She  has  many  excellent  qualities, 
but  on  the  subject  of  Teresa  she  is 
a — what-do-you-call-'em  ?  " 

' '  An  enigma, "  suggested  Wad- 
dilove,  but  in  a  voice  so  modulated 
that  had  the  word  been  unwelcome 
it  might  have  passed  for  a  cough. 

"  That  is  the  thing,"  said  Sir  Sid- 
ney, "an  enigma.  And  to  turn 
against  her  own  daughter,  her  only 
child !     She  has  not  seen  her  since 


24  PROLOGUE. 

she  was  born  ;  there  has  always 
been  some  excuse.  But  now  she 
has  suddenly  sent  for  her,  and  God 
knows  why,  for  no  sooner  had  she 
written  the  letter  than  she  declared 
she  would  not  have  her  in  the 
house.  Damn  it  all  !  it  is  my  house 
and  my  daughter !  When  a  man 
cannot  have  his  own  way  in  his 
own  house,  then — then  it  comes  to 
this — somebody  must  give  in.  If  I 
say,  '  Blanche,  I  am  going  to  put 
my  foot  down,'  she  begins  to  cry. 
She  says,  too,  that  her  hair  is  turn- 
ing grey  with  silent  worry.  And 
you  know,  Waddilove,  she  is  never 
silent,  and  she  is  no  longer  so  young 
that  a  grey  hair  or  two  seems  ex- 
traordinary. But  there  are  quarrels 
between  us  from  morning  till  night, 
and  I  cannot  allow  it.  Life  is  not 
worth  living.  Why  did  she  send 
for  the  girl  if  she  did  not  want  her  .-* 
Where's  the  consistencv  .■*     As  I  told 


PROLOGUE.  25 


Blanche  this  morning — 'Blanche,'  I 
said,  as  kindly  as  possible — I  did 
not  want  a  scene,  as  you  may  im- 
agine— 'Blanche,'  I  said,  'if  you 
will  tell  me  why  you  sent  for  Teresa, 

in  the  first  place' But,  God  bless 

your  soul !  before  the  words  were 
out  of  my  mouth  she  flew  at  me 
like  a  tigress.  And  what  do  you 
think  she  said."*  'What!  do  you 
begrudge  your  own  child  her  right- 
ful home  ?  I  suppose  you  do  not 
wish  to  be  reminded  of  the  past. 
For  it  was  all  your  fault,  although  I 
have  had  all  the  blame.'  Imagine 
her  referring  to  dead  and  gone  mat- 
ters in  that  offensive  manner  !  And 
she  was  the  one  who  had  been 
abusing  the  poor  child — not  I.  I 
ask  you  what  could  any  man  do 
with  a  woman  like  that  ?  " 

"It  is  a  very  difficult  question," 
said  Waddilove. 

' '  And  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained 


26  PROLOGUE. 


by  a  separation,"  said  Sir  Sidney, 
"because  she  is  so  unreasonable, 
and  can  neither  make  head  nor  tail 
of  the  law.  There  is  no  peace  for 
me  this  side  of  the  grave. " 

"What  does  Lady  Warcop  sug- 
gest ? "  said  Waddilove.  ' '  What  are 
her  wishes  in  the  matter  ?  " 

"God  knows!  "  said  Sir  Sidney. 
"  If  I  knew  what  she  wanted  we 
might  come  to  some  understanding. 
But  one  moment  she  says  one  thing 
and  the  next  another.  My  health 
will  not  bear  it  much  longer.  What 
do  you  advise  me  to  do  in  the  mean- 
time?" 

"  You  must  be  firm,"  said  Waddi- 
love. 

"Impossible;  quite  impossible. 
Whenever  I  speak  firmly  she  begins 
to  cry.  You  see,  she  is  a  gentle, 
sweet-tempered  sort  of  woman  by 
nature.  One  does  not  like  to  be 
brutal." 


PROLOGUE,  27 


"  Have  you  tried  persuasion  ? " 

'  *  I  have  tried  everything — coax- 
ing, threatening,  commanding,  and 
exhorting ;  jokes,  presents,  theatres, 
and  sermons  ;  reading,  singing, 
playing,  and,  so  far  as  that  goes, 
praying.  No  husband  could  do 
•more  to  make  his  wife  happy — un- 
less, indeed,  he  blew  his  brains 
out !  " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Waddilove, 
"you  must  make  up  your  mind  to 
endure  these  annoyances." 

Sir  Sidney  sighed  heavily  and 
rose  from  his  chair.  ' '  Before  I 
married  her,"  he  said,  "she  was 
as  mild  as  an  angel.  She  was  a 
little  contrary  now  and  again,  but 
one  kind  word,  and  she  would  do 
anything.  Douglas  Cockbum  never 
understood  that,  and  tried  bullying. 
Now  I  see,  however,  that  there  were 
faults  on  both  sides.  Of  course,  I 
would  not  say  as  much  to  any  one 


28  PROLOGUE. 


else.  This  is  a  judgment  on  me, 
Waddilove,  and  if  I  did  not  know  it 
was  a  judgment  I  could  not  bear  it 
another  day.  As  it  is,  I  will  face  it 
out  to  the  bitter  end.     Good-bye." 

He  left  the  office  with  the  uneasy 
idea  that  he  had  been  talking  too 
freely,  and,  as  a  consequence,  he 
began  to  hate  Waddilove  as  a  pry- 
ing, impertinent  fellow — a  fellow  to 
be  avoided.  What  right  had  he  to 
ask  so  many  questions  ?  But  it  had 
been  a  relief  to  speak  out :  to  utter 
his  feelings  ;  to  rid  himself  even  by 
a  straw's  weight  of  that  load  of 
sorrow,  disappointment,  dissatisfac- 
tion, and  weariness,  the  bearing  of 
which,  after  all,  proved  that  his  poor 
fragment  of  a  soul  had  still  its  use 
in  the  scheme  of  salvation. 

IV. 

Lady  Warcop,  meanwhile,  was 
pacing  the  floor  of  her  boudoir.     In 


PROLOGUE.  29 


her  hand  she  held  the  photograph 
of  a  singularly  plain  little  girl,  who 
stood  in  a  cork  grotto  staring  at  a 
stuffed  dog.  This  portrait  of  Teresa 
had  been  taken  some  ten  years 
before,  and  Blanche  had  lacked  the 
courage  to  send  for  another.  And 
now,  without  warning,  to  be  obliged 
to  present  ihis  to  the  world !  It 
was  too  hard,  too  bitter,  too  out- 
rageous. Was  ever  woman  called 
upon  to  suffer  such  mortification  ? 
As  for  motherly  feelings,  what  were 
they?  How  could  she  love  a  crea- 
ture she  had  never  seen  ?  Some 
one  had  once  shown  her  an  infant, 
but  she  had  felt  too  ill  to  notice  the 
piteous  object.  She  did  not  even 
understand  that  it  was  her  own. 
There  was  so  much  cant  and  non- 
sense talked  about  maternal  in- 
stinct. A  cab  drove  up  to  the  door  ; 
with  a  cry,  her  Ladyship  rushed  to 
the  window.     Thank  goodness,    it 


30  PROLOGUE. 


was  only  Sidney.  What  sufferins^  ! 
What  suspense  !  One  more  day  like 
this,  and  she  would  be  on  her 
death-bed. 

* '  Ah  !  so  you  have  come  at  last, 
Sidney  ? "  Where  had  he  been  all 
the  morning  ?  She  made  few  de- 
mands on  his  time,  but  she  certainly 
thought  that  in  common  decency 
and  merely  for  the  sake  of  ap- 
pearances he  would  have  remained 
with  her  to  receive  poor  darling 
Teresa.  It  was  true  that  she  had 
not  yet  arrived,  but  this  did  not 
alter  the  fact  that  he  might  have 
missed  her.  Poor  child  !  a  stranger 
in  her  own  father's  house  !  But  the 
world  was  a  cruel  place,  and  she, 
for  her  part,  was  sick  and  tired 
of  it.  If  it  were  not  for  Teresa, 
who  needed  a  mother's  care,  she 
was  by  no  means  sure  that  she 
might  not  seek  a  speedy  way  out  of 
it.     Suicide,  of  course,  was  wicked, 


PROLOGUE.  3 1 


but  God  was  never  hard  on  women. 
He  understood  them  :  men  did  not. 
.  .  .     Was  that  the  bell  ? 

' '  Go  and  meet  her, "  said  Blanche. 
"Try  and  look  affectionate.  I 
want  the  poor  little  thing  to  think 
we  are  glad  to  see  her.  As  for  me, 
I  feel  too  ill  and  extraordinary  to 
move. " 

As  she  spoke,  however,  the  door 
was  opened,  and  two  nuns,  followed 
by  a  young  girl,  were  ushered  in. 
Her  Ladyship  flushed  and  paled, 
and,  without  speaking,  with  tears 
raining  down  her  cheeks,  took  the 
girl  in  her  arms,  tenderly,  closely, 
as  only  a  mother  can. 

Sir  Sidney  rubbed  his  eyes,  almost 
fearing  to  rest  them  on  a  scene  so 
beautiful,  so  new  in  his  experience. 
Blanche  seemed  to  him  transfigured, 
and  he  saw  in  that  brief  moment 
the  woman  she  might  have  been : 
all  the  fair  ambitions  she  had  for- 


32 


PROLOGUE. 


gotten,  all  the  good  impulses  she 
had  not  obeyed  flashed  their  pure 
light  on  her  countenance. 

Like  some  guilty  creature,  he  left 
the  room.  He  was  the  only  sinner 
there. 


CHARACTERS  OF  THE  BOOK. 


Lord  Twacorbie. 

Sidney  Wiche,  M.P.,  Proprietor  and  Editor 

of"  The  Watchman:' 
Nicholas  T.  Van  Huyster,  an  American 

millionaire  and  poet. 
Captain  Saville  Rookes. 
Sir  Ventry  Coxe,  a  widower. 
Lady  Twacorbie,  his  sister. 
The  Hon.  Felicia  Gorm,  her  step-daughter. 
Teresa  Warcop,  an  heiress,  cottsin  to  Lady 

Twacorbie. 
Lady  Mallinger,  a  very  young  widow. 
LUFFY,  the  head-gardener. 
Spalding,  the  butler. 
Mrs.  Danby  the  housekeeper. 


The  scene  is  laid  at  Arden  Lodge,  the 
country  seat  of  Lord  Twacorbie,  in  Hert- 
fordshire. The  action  takes  place  in  the 
course  of  twenty-four  hours. 

"  One  day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand 
years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day." 

3 


A  BUNDLE  OF  LIFE. 


I. 


?HE  dining-room  in  Arden 
Lodge  was  superbly  fur- 
nished with  a  silver  chan- 
^  delier.  This  splendid  ob- 
ject was  of  such  incomparable  in- 
terest that  Lord  Twacorbie,  who 
was  a  man  of  taste  no  less  than 
an  economist,  had  the  walls  which 
formed  its  background,  bare,  the 
floor  beneath  covered  with  a  plain 
drugget,  and  the  tables  and  chairs 
in  the  apartment  of  the  sim- 
plest design.  On  the  same  artistic 
principle,  he  gave  large  dinners, 
'   35 


$6  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

at  which  the  rarest,  indeed,  uiv 
heard-of  delicacies,  (which  were 
as  disagreeable  to  the  palate  as 
they  were  interesting  to  the  explorer 
and  antiquarian),  formed  the  brief 
but  sufficient  menu. 

On  a  certain  evening  in  the  early 
spring  of  189-,  one  of  these  dinners 
had  taken  place  with  unusual  suc- 
cess, possibly  because  most  of  the 
thirty  guests  were  persons  of  im- 
portance, probably  because  some 
roast  mutton  had,  by  a  new  cook's 
judicious  mistake,  formed  a  vulgar 
but  stimulating  addition  to  the 
choice  viands  of  the  banquet.  The 
ladies  had  left  the  table,  and  the 
fifteen  men  who  remained  sighed, 
some  with  relief,  some  with  regret, 
some  from  the  force  of  example, 
and  some  because  they  could  dine 
no  more  that  day. 

Lord  Twacorbie  was  a  gentleman 
whom   food   did  not  nourish,    and 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  37 

whose  airy  shapelessness  made  him 
seem  in  some  way  symbolic  of  the 
universe  when  it  was  without  form, 
and  void.  To-night  he  fluttered  a 
smile  like  the  sun's  on  a  March 
morning,  and  surveyed  the  com- 
pany with  the  feverish  gaiety  of  one 
who  is  too  seriously  bored  to  risk 
showing  languor.  He  was  of  all 
men  the  last  to  entertain  a  table, 
yet  few  attempted  the  task  so  often, 
and  no  one  could  have  been  more 
ignorant  of  his  failures.  He  started 
a  conversation  on  the  Early  Mar- 
riages Bill,  and  quoted,  with  in- 
spired inaccuracy,  a  speech  recently 
made  on  that  subject  by  his  friend, 
Sidney  Wiche.  Wiche,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  present,  endured  his 
host's  recital  with  the  air  of  one  ac- 
customed to  suffering  ;  at  its  close 
his  countenance  had  something 
humorous,  pathetic,  and  sublime — 
St.  Lawrence  on  the  gridiron  saying, 


38  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"Turn  me!  This  side  is  done!" 
must  have  looked  just  so.  The 
editor  of  The  Watchman  was  a  man 
of  slender  frame  and  with  fewer 
inches  than  the  ordinary ;  a  small 
mortal  whose  boundless  spirit — im- 
prisoned yet  not  impatient  for  re- 
lease— gazed  through  his  eyes.  His 
pale  face,  dull  brown  hair  and  duller 
beard,  and  the  absence  in  his  manner 
of  all  that  marks  the  creature  of 
many  fashions  and  one  epoch,  had 
made  him  more  famous  for  his  in- 
significance than  any  of  his  con- 
temporaries for  their  distinction. 
He  was  about  seven-and-thirty,  and 
hard  work  had  made  him  look  much 
older. 

Two  men  who  sat  at  the  far  end 
of  the  table  seized  the  advantage  of 
their  position,  and,  talking  in  un- 
dertones, studied  him  with  lively 
interest. 

' '  Of  course,   he  is  clever, "  said 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  39 

the  elder  of  the  two  ;  "or,  at  least, 
he  is  a  great  man  for  the  mob. 
There  is  a  distinction  between  great- 
ness and  being  great  in  the  eyes  of 
a  certain  class"  The  speaker,  Sir 
Ventry  Coxe,  had  the  so-called  aris- 
tocratic air  sometimes  found  in 
men  of  middle-class  extraction,  but 
unknown  amongst  the  old  nobility. 
Very  young  girls,  sentimental  wo- 
men, and  men  of  his  own  stamp, 
thought  him  extremely  handsome  : 
his  features  were  bold  and  well-de- 
fined, his  dark  eyes  could  express 
any  drawing-room  emotion  with 
really  excellent  effect ;  his  thin, 
straight  lips  suggested  his  refined 
tastes  to  those  who  understand 
culture  as  leanness  and  vulgarity  as 
curves. 

' '  What  do  they  think  of  Wiche  in 
America  ?  "  continued  the  Baronet. 

"They  wonder  that  he  does  not 
marry, "    replied    his     companion ; 


40  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"there  are  so  many  pretty  women 
in  England." 

Mr.  Nicholas  T.  Van  Huyster 
was  a  young  man  about  eight-and- 
twenty,  tall,  slight,  dark,  and  clean- 
shaven. His  face  was  not  at  first 
sight  sympathetic,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  did  not  have  the  aggres- 
sive air  of  one  who  is  conscious  that 
he  must  be  known  to  be  appre- 
ciated. 

' '  Wiche  is  not  popular  in  society, " 
said  Sir  Ventry.  ' '  He  has  no  pres- 
ence, no  manners,  no  small  talk. " 

"No,"  answered  the  American, 
"he  is  not  that  modem  of  each  May 
so  beloved  of  dining  London." 

"  His  family  is  nothing,"  said  Sir 
Ventry.  "His  mother  was  a  per- 
son of  no  education,  who  lived  with 
an  art-critic  called  Wiche.  By  the 
by,  can  you  imagine  a  more  miser- 
able occupation  than  this  scribbling 
about  art  ?     What  is  Art  ?     Madness 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  4 1 

in  most  cases,  and  mere  frippery  in 
others.  And  only  one  man  here 
and  there  makes  it  pay.  Look  at 
Nature,  I  say,  if  you  want  beautiful 
pictures.  But  I  was  telling  you 
about  this  fellow.  It  seems  he 
was  christened  Sidney  Wiche ;  his 
mother  said  that  his  name  was  at 
least  Christian  if  it  was  not  legal  I  I 
am  thankful  to  say  I  never  met  her. 
I  do  not  pretend  to  be  a  saint,  but  a 
woman  without  a  conscience  strikes 
me  dumb  !  I  feel  that  there  is  noth- 
ing more  to  say  !  " 

"Conscience  is  the  name  which 
the  orthodox  give  to  their  preju- 
dices," said  Van  Huyster.  "But 
have  you  ever  heard,"  he  went  on, 
drawing  out  his  pocket-book,  "that 
Wiche's  father  left  a  very  eccentric 
will?  I  received  this  from  New 
York  last  night."  He  handed  a 
newspaper  cutting  to  Sir  Ventry, 
who  read  the  following  ; — 


42  A   BUNDLE    OF   LIFE. 

* '  Sidney  Wiche  was  to  he  first  a 
Christian,  then  a  scholar,  and  in 
course  of  time  a  philosophical  poli- 
tician. He  was  not  to  marry,  '  but, ' 
rati  the  strange  document,  'should 
he  feel  drawn  towards  the  married 
state  let  him  give  the  matter  his  best 
consideration  for  a  no  less  term  than 
five  years,  since  marriage  is  of  all 
subjects  the  one  most  darkened  by 
fallacy,  falsehood,  and  false  senti- 
ment. '  During  this  period  of  prayer 
and  reflection  he  was  to  read  '  neither 
poets  nor  romancers,  but  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  Cardinal  Newman,  and  the 
great  historians,  who,  between  them, 
would  so  satisfy  his  soul,  his  manli- 
ness, and  his  common-sense  that  after 
their  company  any  feminine  prattler 
would  seem  a  plague  rather  than  a 
treasure.'  He  was  to  shun  'as  he 
would  the  devil,  learned  ladies,  ladies 
with  artistic  gifts,  ladies  ivho  talked 
religion,    and  ladies   who    were  nod 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE,  43 

ladies  I '  In  conclusion,  he  was  ear- 
nestly exhorted  to  practice  the  pious 
exercise  of  meditating  for  two  hours 
daily  on  his  own  nothingness  I " 

"Very  interesting,"  remarked  Sir 
Ventry ;  "but  interesting  things 
are  never  true." 

"And  the  truth  is  only  convinc- 
ing when  it  is  told  by  an  experi- 
enced liar,"  observed  Nicholas. 

"Old  Wiche  has  been  dead  for 
some  time,"  said  Sir  Ventry,  "and 
I  never  heard  that  he  left  Sidney 
either  means  of  support  or  instruc- 
tions ;  it  ought  to  be  made  known 
if  he  did.  One  likes  to  hear  that  a 
man  has  behaved  like  a  gentleman 
in  such  matters.  Unfortunately,  he 
died  abroad,  and  his  affairs  were 
managed  by  these  Italian  scoun- 
drels. One  can  get  nothing  out  of 
them.  I  must  say  I  like  English 
straightforwardness. " 


44  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"  Tfte  Watchman  must  bring  in 
a  large  income,"  said  Van  Huyster. 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  Sir  Ven- 
try.  "But  what  a  rag  the  paper 
is  !  These  Radicals  are  ruining  the 
nation." 

"  I  thought  Wiche  was  a  member 
of  your  own  party. " 

"My  own  party,"  said  Sir  Ven- 
try,  "is  not  necessarily  my  own 
politics!  As  a  man,"  he  went  on, 
after  a  pause,  "I  like  the  fellow 
well  enough,  and  now  that  he  has 
pushed  his  way  into  the  world  we 
all  try  to  forget  his  origin.  But 
with  every  desire  to  be  fair,  I  can- 
not bring  myself  to  regard  him  as 
a  suitable  match  for  any  relative  of 
my  own.  It  is  only  too  well-known 
that  he  admires  my  sister's  step- 
daughter. Miss  Gorm." 

"That  does  not  surprise  me," 
said  Van  Huyster,  fetching  a  deep 
sigh,    "she  is  lovely.     Her  face  is 


A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  45 

SO  bright  yet  so  delicate — a  star 
wrapped  in  gauze  !  " 

Sir  Ventry  dropped  his  lower  jaw, 
but  recovered  it  on  remembering 
that  the  millionaire  wrote  poetry, 
very  bad  poetry,  too.  "Felicia  is 
certainly  good-looking,"  he  said; 
' '  perhaps  you  are  aware  that  her 
mother,  the  former  Lady  Twacorbie, 
was  an  American.  She  made  Twa- 
corbie an  excellent  wife,  however, 
greatly  improved  the  estate  and 
was  very  much  liked  by  the  Royal- 
ties.    She  died  young. " 

"Good  wives  so  often  do,"  mur- 
mured Van  Huyster,  "perhaps  that 
is  one  of  their  brightest  virtues. " 

Sir  Ventry  abhorred  anything  in 
the  nature  of  satire — it  seemed  to 
him  a  convenient  name  for  offensive 
and  unmistakable  allusions  to  his 
own  character  and  career.  On  this 
occasion  he  wondered  whether  Van 
Huyster  was   aware  that  he,   too, 


46  A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

Sir  Ventry  Coxe,  had  in  his  day 
buried  some  sixty-three  inches  of 
weary  perfection.  He  decided  to 
ignore  the  remark. 

"One  can  see,"  he  said,  "that 
Felicia  is  extremely  un-English  : 
her  manners  are  a  little  crude.  But 
I  like  a  woman  who  can  talk  :  a 
man  wants  to  be  amused,  he  does 
not  want  to  wear  his  brains  out 
amusing  a  wife  !  " 

At  this  point  Lord  Twacorbie 
rose  up  from  the  table. 

The  pantry  was  immediately  be- 
hind the  dining-room — and  here,  at 
the  close  of  the  dinner,  Spalding, 
the  butler,  the  head-gardener,  Luffy, 
and  Mrs.  Danby,  the  housekeeper, 
were  engaged  in  conversation  of  an 
even  more  instructive  nature  than 
that  indulged  in  by  Lord  Twa- 
corbie and  his  distinguished  com- 
pany. 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  47 

"Who  came  down  from  town 
this  evening  ? "  asked  Luffy. 

"Sir  Van  try,  Mr.  Wiche,  Captain 
Rookes,  and  this  new  American,  Mr. 
Van  Huyster, "  said  the  housekeeper. 

"And  who  are  the  women?" 
continued  Luffy. 

"Miss  Warcop  for  one,"  said 
Mrs.  Danby.  ' '  Between  ourselves 
her  ladyship  is  on  the  matchmaking 
hop  agfain.  But  there — when  did 
she  ever  pull  anything  off  what  you 
may  call  satisfactory?  She's  too 
hopeful.  And  say  what  you  like, 
Luffy,  it  doesn't  do  to  be  hopeful  in 
this  world.  Expect  nothing,  I  say  !  " 
The  widow  shook  her  head,  and 
heaved  her  breast,  and  hurled  a 
poignant  glance  at  Spalding,  who 
had  been  shuddering  on  the  brink 
of  matrimony  for  twelve  and  a 
half  years. 

"  It  might  be  a  very  good  thing 
for  Sir  Ventry  if  Miss  Warcop  would 


48  A    BUNDLE   OF    LIFE. 

have  him,"  said  Spalding;  "but 
the  question  arises  in  my  mind,  will 
she  ?  If  she  would  take  my  advice 
she  would  stay  single  !  " 

"Everybody  is  not  so  wrapt  up 
in  theirselves  as  you  are, "  said  Mrs. 
Danby,  tartly. 

"If  I  was  a  woman,"  murmured 
Spalding,  in  a  weak  voice,  ' '  the 
man  doesn't  live  that  I  would  sacri- 
fice my  peace  of  mind  for.  Men 
are  not  worth  so  much  thought. 
The  devotion  of  women  is  some- 
thing awful  to  think  of." 

"  It  is,"  sighed Luffy,  whose  wife 
had  a  jealous  temperament,  "it  is." 

"  I  can  say  this  much,"  said  Mrs, 
Danby  :  "when  Miss  Warcop  mar- 
ries she  will  not  choose  a  conceited, 
self-seeking,  cold-hearted,  unfeeling 
half-a-man  like  Sir  Ventry  !  I  would 
not  look  at  him — no,  not  if  he  draped 
me  in  diamonds  from  head  to  foot ! 
Mr,  Wiche  is  the  man  for  her." 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  49 

"Not  he,"  said  Spalding,  "he's 
got  his  eye  on  Lady  Mallinger." 

"If  he  was  to  roll  his  eyes  at 
Lady  Mallinger  from  now  till  Dooms- 
day," said  Mrs.  Danby,  "I  should 
still  say  that  he  and  Miss  Warcop 
were  made  for  each  other.  And, 
what  is  more,  they  will  marry. 
Whoever  lives  longest  will  see  the 
most.  I  know  what  I  know.  If 
God  Almighty  intends  a  couple  to 
marry  that  marriage  will  come  off. 
The  man  can't  help  himself.  Just 
you  bear  that  in  mind  !  " 

She  left  them,  and  neither  of  the 
men  had  the  courage  to  smile. 
They  talked  instead  of  the  new 
Cemetery,  and  grew  cheerful  on  the 
subject  of  coffins. 


II. 


RDEN  LODGE  in  Hertford- 
\^  shire  is  a  large,  white  build- 
ing surrounded  by  beautiful 
^'^^^^  grounds,  and  facing  the  finest 
scenery  in  the  county.  This  is  say- 
ing a  great  deal,  for  although  Hert- 
ford is  fiat  and  not  at  all  wild  or  what 
is  called  romantic,  its  rivers  and 
fields,  gardens  and  woods,  toy-like 
farms  and  shady  parks  are,  for  their 
kind,  the  prettiest  in  the  world.  And 
one  can  only  find  such  peculiar  pret- 
tiness  in  England ;  it  is  so  well- 
disposed,  calm  and  unsuggestive — 
Inspiring  neither  passionate  senti- 
50 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 


ments,  nor  unearthly  music,  nor 
flaming  words,  but  what,  in  some 
opinions,  may  be  better  than  all 
these — a  dreamless,  ineffable  drowsi- 
ness. 

On  the  morning  after  the  dinner- 
party, a  lady  and  gentleman  were 
strolling  on  the  Terrace  which  led 
by  wide  steps  on  to  the  lawn  of 
Lord  Twacorbie's  residence.  The 
lady  was  Miss  Warcop  :  her  escort 
was  Sidney  Wiche. 

Teresa  was  no  longer  in  her  first 
youth,  and  she  had  never  been 
pretty  :  her  oval  face  was  colorless, 
heavy  black  eyebrows  overhung  her 
hazel  eyes  ;  mouth,  nose,  and  chin 
were  too  obviously  mouth,  nose, 
and  chin.  She  was  remarkable, 
however,  and  only  needed  a  repu- 
tation for  wickedness  to  make  her 
considered  curiously  fascinating. 

As  these  two  came  down  the  steps, 
they    were     commenting     on    the 


52  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

weather,  the  unusual  warmth,  seeing 
it  was  but  Easter,  and  the  freshness 
of  the  air.  When  they  reached  the 
lawn,  they  walked  in  silence  to  a 
seat,  sat  down  and  stared  at  the 
landscape.  They  were  evidently 
old  friends. 

"Well,"  said  Wiche,  at  last,  "is 
the  most  practical  woman  in  the 
world,  dreaming  ? " 

"I  was  thinking  of  you,"  she  an- 
swered, looking  at  him  with  such 
frank,  unclouded  affection  that  he 
blushed  to  think  how  little  he  de- 
served it.  He  might  have  made 
some  answer,  but  as  she  spoke  they 
both  heard  the  rustle  of  silk  skirts  : 
the  sound  grew  nearer :  at  last  a 
lady,  charmingly  attired  in  a  gown 
which  suggested  gray  vapor  and 
sunlight,  approached  them.  She 
presented  a  strange  effect  of  bril- 
liance, fragility,  and  mistiness  :  her 
features  were  soft,  and  her  head  in 


A    BUNDLE    OF   LIFE.  53 

profile  seemed  rather  a  shadow  in 
the  air  than  something  real  or  hu- 
man. But  the  shadow  was  plainly- 
womanish — one  could  never  have 
mistaken  it  for  an  angel's.  Her 
skin  was  fair,  her  hair  light  brown, 
her  eyes  blue,  sapphirine,  deep,  a 
little  troubled  :  she  gazed  at  Wiche, 
he  gazed  at  her ;  Teresa  watched  the 
meeting  with  some  uneasiness. 

"I  did  not  know  that  the  glare 
was  so  great, "  she  said,  faintly  ; 
"I  should  have  brought  my  par- 
asol. ' 

"  Let  me  fetch  it !  "  said  Wiche. 

She  thanked  him  as,  with  an  ad- 
mirable semblance  of  good  humor, 
he  left  them. 

"  You  met  Mr.  Wiche  some  years 
ago,  did  you  not  ?  "  Teresa  asked, 
turning  to  Lady  Mallinger :  "did 
you  know  him  at  all  well  ?  " 

"That  would  depend  on  what 
you    call   ivell,"   said   the   younger 


54  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

woman.  Her  voice  was  strangely 
melodious  :  to  hear  it  was  to  think 
of  the  fabulous  singing  of  fabulous 
sirens.  If  she  babbled  of  brick- 
dust,  one  thought  only  of  lute- 
strings. For  this  reason  she  was 
never  quoted  accurately. 

"I  mean,"  said  Teresa,  "were 
you  great  friends  ?  " 

' '  I  should  not  say  that. " 

"I  thought  I  saw  him  looking  at 
you  rather  often  during  dinner  last 
evening," 

"Did  he?  "said  Lady  Mallinger. 
"  I  hope  my  hair  was  dressed  prop- 
erly. My  maid  is  in  love  just  at 
present,  and  she  makes  me  quite 
frightful.  It  is  not  that  she  is  ma- 
licious, but  Love  is  so  distracting." 
Smiling  sweetly,  she  looked  first  at 
the  trees,  then  at  the  grass,  and 
finally  at  Teresa.  "In  some  ways, " 
she  went  on,  ' '  I  am  rather  sorry  to 
renew   Mr.  Wiche's   acquaintance : 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  55 

we  have  nothing  in  common — 
absolutely  nothing.  He  has  the 
instincts  of  a  Turk  :  he  does  not 
believe  in  a  woman's  intellect. 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  really  was 
stupid  and  lived  in  a  harem  !  " 

"  My  dear  !  "  said  Teresa. 

"  I  do,  indeed  :  women  were  not 
made  to  struggle  and  strive.  They 
ought  only  to  be  fed  and  clothed 
and  petted.  But  I  thought  other- 
wise once.  Before  my  marriage  I 
was  anxious  to  work  out  a  career  : 
I  wanted  to  be  artistic  :  I  thought  I 
might  become  a  famous  actress. 
Ah,  to  think  of  those  days  when  I 
was  hoping  and  dreaming,  when 
my  thoughts  were  my  achievements, 
when  the  future  seemed  so  far  and 
the  present  so  eternal  !  "  Her  voice 
trembled,  she  flushed  and  then  grew 
pale  :  one  could  imagine  that  she 
was  struggling  in  a  very  hurricane 
of  lost  possibilities.       "But   when 


56  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

work  began  in  earnest,"  she  con- 
tinued, *  *  when  art  became  a  task, 
and  dreaming,  waste  of  time,  I  con- 
fess I  grew  sick  of  ambition.  I 
only  wanted  to  sit  idle  in  the  market- 
place. And  so  I  married,  and 
danced,  and  dressed,  and  chattered  : 
I  gave  up  thinking — it  made  me 
too  miserable."  Teresa  had  an 
extraordinary  power  of  winning 
confidences  :  perhaps  because  she 
rarely  talked. 

"A  woman's  mission  is  to  play 
the  fool,"  continued  Lady  INIal- 
linger,  "and  that  is  why  she  can 
only  lead  a  man  so  long  as  she  does 
not  love  him.  On  the  instant  she 
loves,  she  must  be  honest  or  die  : 
she  loses  all  discretion  :  she  quarrels 
when  she  should  cajole,  smiles  when 
she  should  frown,  utters  ugly  truth 
when  she  should  tell  pretty  lies  : 
she  cannot  flatter,  she  cannot  pre- 
tend— in    fact,  she  can  do   nothing 


A    BUNDLE   OF    LIFE.  57 

but  love — and  that  beyond  sense." 
Commanding  was  not  the  word  for 
Lady  Mallinger's  manner :  yet  there 
was  that  in  her  air  which  insisted, 
which  brooked  no  denial,  which 
said  plainly  enough  :  * '  What  I  think 
must  be,  because  I  was  not  born  to 
be  disappointed  ! " 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you, "  said 
Teresa,  "because  if  I  loved  a  man  I 
would  have  no  desire  to  lead  him. 
I  could  only  pray  that  I  might  not 
prove  his  stumbling-block,  and  that 
we  might  help  each  other  to  do 
right  rightly.  Life  is  so  hard  to 
live  alone." 

"Oh,  if  I  only  dared  to  be  nat- 
ural," exclaimed  Lady  Mallinger  ; 
"if  I  only  dared  to  tell  all  I  think, 
and  feel,  and  know.  If  I  could 
only  drop  this  tedious  gossiping  and 
grinning  !  I  am  not  tired  of  living, 
but  I  am  tired  of  my  body — of  this 
mummy-case.     When  I  was  a  child, 


58  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

I  felt  old  ;  now  I  am  a  woman,  I  feel 
young.  I  want  to  go  back  to  the 
youth  of  the  world  :  I  want  the 
time  when  love  was  the  only  hap- 
piness, and  folly  the  highest  wis- 
dom ! " 

"Did  you  ever  talk  like  this  to 
Mr.  Wiche  ? "  said  Teresa. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Lady  Mal- 
linger.  "  I  only  talk  nonsense  to 
men  !  " 

"  Dear  me  !  Yet  I  daresay  they 
like  it.  But  I  promised  to  show 
Mr.  Wiche  the  primrose  path.  As 
you  do  not  care  for  him,  I  will  meet 
him  half-way.  See  !  he  is  coming 
now."  She  rose  from  her  seat  and 
hastened  across  the  lawn  in  the 
direction  of  the  house.  Lady  Mal- 
linger  sat  smiling  to  herself:  she 
had  never  suffered  from  jealousy, 
and  she  thought  it  the  drollest  of 
passions.  She  was  on  the  verge  of 
laughter  when  Captain   Rookes  ap- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  59 

peared  on  the  Terrace.  He  was 
undeniably  handsome  :  his  features 
had  that  harmonious  irregularity 
which  is  so  much  more  like  truth 
than  beauty,  so  much  more  life-like, 
sinner-like,  and  love-like  than  per- 
fection. His  eyes  flashed  fire  and 
sentiment — youth  lacking  either  is 
dull — melancholy  had  added  a  force 
to  their  magic. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  he  said  anx- 
iously, as  he  approached  Lady  Mal- 
linger,  "  are  you  sure  that  it  is  dis- 
creet to  meet  here  where  every  one 
can  see  us  ? " 

"Of  course,"  said  her  ladyship, 
whose  whole  bearing  and  manner 
changed,  and  who  now  assumed 
an  infantile,  prattling,  and  pouting 
simplicity  ;  "  of  course,  I  hate  out- 
of-the-way  corners." 

"Speak  a  little  lower,  darling," 
said  Saville,  "  there  may  be  some 
gardeners  about." 


60  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 


"  That  would  not  matter." 

"Not  matter?  My  dear  Lilian, 
you  do  not  know  the  world.  If  the 
world  knew  how  much  we  loved 
each  other,  it  would  grow  suspi- 
cious," 

' '  Why  ?  Numbers  of  people  love 
each  other." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Captain,  "but  we 
are  not  like  other  people.  I  love 
you  too  well  to  ask  you  to  marry 
me  and  so  drag  you  down  to  a  mis- 
erable shabby-genteel  existence." 

"I  do  not  mind  being  poor, 
Saville,"  said  Lady  Mallinger, 
eagerly.  "  Before  my  marriage, 
Papa  only  allowed  me  sixty  pounds 
a  year  for  my  clothes,  and  every 
one  said  how  well  I  managed. 
That,  I  know,  was  as  a  girl,  and,  of 
course,  a  married  woman  has  to 
dress  more — in  a  sense — but  a  hand- 
some mantle  goes  a  long  way. 
Lady    Twacorbie    has    worn    that 


A    BUNDLE    OF   LIFE.  6 1 

satin  and  lace  thing  at  least  four 
seasons  :  she  has  had  the  sleeves 
altered,  and  it  has  been  re-lined 
with  a  different  color,  but  it  is  the 
same  cloak !  And  I  am  tired  of 
marrying  for  money  :  it  is  not  as 
though  I  had  not  tried  it.  No  one 
can  say  that  I  gave  the  least  trouble 
when  they  married  me  to  Charles — 
although  I  never  did  admire  red 
hair,  and  he  was  the  worst  dancer 
in  his  regiment.  I  know  he  was 
most  civil  to  poor  Papa,  but  after 
all  he  was  not  so  rich  as  they 
thought  him,  and  it  would  have 
been  wiser,  perhaps,  if  I  had  re- 
mained single  a  little  longer.  But 
you,  Saville,  I  could  be  poor  with 
you  :  you  are  so  sympathetic,  and 
you  wrote  me  such  a  beautiful  letter 
when  Charles  died.  I  am  sure,  too, 
that  he  would  have  been  pleased 
with  that  lovely  wreath !  And — 
and  I  cannot   forget  the  old  days 


62  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

when  we  made  toffee  together  in 
the  schoolroom  at  home.  Do  you 
remember  ?  " 

Saville  tried  to  look  as  though  the 
toffee  episode  had  for  him  thoughts 
too  deep  for  utterance.  He  flung 
cautious  glances  about  the  scene 
and  then  hastily  pressed  her  hand. 

"  How  can  you  ask?  "  he  said  : 
"But  believe  me,  dearest  Lilian, 
our  only  duty  is  renunciation.  I 
mean,  we  must  forget  our  love,  and 
if  we  can,  each  other.  I  have  been 
waiting  months  to  find  words  for  all 
this:  it  seemed  unutterable.  Truth 
is  difficult,  and  the  less  one  speaks 
it  the  harder  it  grows.  I  have  lied 
when  I  pretended  to  be  happy.  I 
find  it  easier  after  all  to  admit  that 
I  am  in  despair.  Yet  not  despair — 
because  I  feel  that  honor  is  still 
dearer  to  me  than  your  society. 
The  thought  is  hackneyed,  but  so 
are  the  commandments.     Some  day 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  63 

you  will  meet  some  excellent,  well- 
meaning  man  who  will  have  a  for- 
tune worth  offering  you.  Perhaps 
he  will  not  be  much  to  look  at  and 
he  may  not  be  polished  in  his  man- 
ners. I  daresay,  too,  that  he  will 
often  say  and  do  much  which  will 
jar  on  your  refined  taste.  But  polish 
is  not  everything  !  " 

"I  cannot  live,"  cried  Lady  Mal- 
linger,  "in  an  unpolished  atmos- 
phere !  " 

"You  see,  my  darling,  we  all 
have  to  endure  disagreeable  things 
in  this  life ;  money  and  love  never 
seem  to  go  together." 

"We  should  have  fifteen  hundred 
a  year,"  whimpered  Lilian. 

"What  is  that,  my  dear  child?  " 
said  Saville.  "Two  thousand  is 
the  lowest  income  I  can  conceive 
myself  marrying  on.  As  I  have 
said,  if  I  cared  for  you  in  the 
ordinary,  vulgar  way,  I  might  risk 


64  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

everything  and  urge  you  to  ruin  ray 
whole  life — and  perhaps  your  own 
as  well.  So,  darling,  is  it  fair  to 
tempt  me  ? " 

"  I  do"  not  want  to  tempt  you," 
said  Lady  Mallinger.  ' '  I  only  want 
to  talk  sensibly.  Please,  please, 
dear  Saville,  do  not  say  that  I  am 
tempting  you.  I  would  not  be  so 
wicked,  for  I  am  sure  you  only 
want  to  do  right,  and  men  know 
much  more  about  honor  and  in- 
comes and  things  like  that  than 
women  do  ! " 

Sweet,  submissive,  believing,  un- 
assertive Lilian,  of  a  type  all  but 
extinct !  Where  would  he  find  such 
another  ?  He  rose  from  his  seat  in 
agitation,  feeling,  for  the  moment, 
that  he  might  in  an  emergency 
show  the  splendid  indiscretion  of  a 
hero.  But  the  mood  passed,  and 
with  it  a  great  deal  of  Lady  Mal- 
linger's  folly.     Something  else,  in- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  65 

definable,  chilling,  deadly,  took  its 
place  in  her  soul.  She,  too,  stood 
up,  and  in  silence  they  surveyed  a 
far-distant  and  sleeping  cow. 

"You  see,  Lilian,"  Saville  stam- 
mered at  last. 

"  I  see  it  all  clearly,"  she  replied. 
"  I  only  wonder  why  I  did  not  see 
it  before.  It  would  be  the  greatest 
mistake  in  the  world  for  us  to 
marry  !  " 

This  remark  cut  him  to  the  heart  : 
he  flushed,  his  whole  aspect  suf- 
fered. 

"No  woman,"  he  said,  "could 
say  such  a  thing  to  a  man  she  loved. 
You  cannot  care  for  me. " 

"I  do  indeed  care  for  you, 
Saville,"  she  said,  "please  believe 
me." 

Rookes,   happily,    did    not   need 

much  persuasion  to  convince  him. 

"This  world  is  a  beastly  place,"  he 

burst  forth.       "  It  has  everything  to 

5 


66  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

make  one  happy  except  happiness. 
Look  at  us !  We  are  young,  we 
love  each  other,  we  have  the  same 
tastes,  and  we  are  in  the  same  set 
How  we  could  enjoy  life  !  But  we 
cannot  afford  it. " 

"It  is  hard,"  said  Lilian,  "ter- 
ribly hard.  I  daresay,  though,  that 
is  all  for  the  best. " 

"  I  must  go  away,"  said  Saville  : 
"  I  see  too  much  of  you ;  it  is  too 
tantalizing  !  But  hush  !  here  comes 
Felicia. " 

"  How  well  you  know  her  step  !  * 
exclaimed  Lilian. 


III. 


FELICIA  GORM  was  a  young 
girl  about  seventeen,  with 
large  blue  eyes,  small  regular 
features,  and  rosy  cheeks  ;  to- 
day she  was  even  rosier  than  usual. 
"Mamma  would  be  so  grateful 
if  you  would  talk  to  Mr.  Van  Huys- 
ter,"  she  said  to  Saville  ;  "he  is 
asking  so  many  questions  about 
England,  and  no  one  can  answer 
him." 

When  Rookes  had  left  them, 
Felicia  tried  to  look  disinterested. 
"  Have  you  ever  noticed,"  she  said, 

"how    easily  he   blushes.   ...   It 
67 


68  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

does  not  mean  anything — although 
Mama  says  that  men  only  blush 
nowadays  to  be  mistaken  for  Chris- 
tians !  I  am  sure  that  is  not  the 
case  with  Captain  Rookes.  .  .  .  Do 
you  like  him  ?  " 

"  We  are  half-cousins  !  " 

The  young  girl  sat  down  by  her 
side.  ' '  Dear  Lady  Mallinger,"  she 
said,  "I  am  dreadfully  unhappy. 
But  I  am  so  fond  of  you  ;  I  am  sure 
you  will  help  me. " 

"Indeed,  I  will.  What  is  troub- 
ling you .''  " 

"Where  shall  I  begin?  Mama 
sent  for  me  this  morning,  I  felt  it 
was  to  be  a  serious  conversation 
because  she  wore  her  coronet 
brooch.  She  told  me  that  if  Mr. 
Wiche  asked  me  to  marry  him,  I 
was  to  say  yes.  Think  of  it  !  It 
seems  they  have  arranged  it  all 
between  them  ;  they  think  he  is 
growing  too  democratic,  and  now 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFK.  69 

he  has  refused  a  Baronetcy  he  has 
become  more  popular  than  ever. 
They  say  it  would  be  such  an  ex- 
cellent thing  if  he  married  a  Peer's 
daughter,  and  Mama  says  1  must 
sacrifice  myself  for  the  sake  of  the 
country,  I  am  sure  that  marriage 
into  our  family  will  not  change  his 
opinion  of  the  House  of  Lords  !  I 
have  no  influence  with  him,  but 
Mama  says  I  must  try  to  have 
one  ;  that  he  must  be  very  fond  of 
me  or  he  would  not  stay  here. 
Every  one  knows  that  he  detests 
visiting  as  a  rule.  I  beHeve  he  is 
in  love  with  you,  but  Mama  says 
that  is  an  absurd  idea,  because  he 
knew  you  before  you  married  Lord 
Mallinger,  and  he  is  not  the  kind  of 
man  who  would  fancy  your  style 
of  beauty  in  a  wife.  He  is  always 
staring  at  you  at  any  rate.  Then  I 
said  he  seemed  great  friends  with 
Teresa  ;  but  then,  as  Mama  says, 


70  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

dear  Teresa  is  almost  ugly,  and  if 
he  had  intended  to  marry  her  for 
her  money,  he  would  have  done  so 
long  ago  I  So  I  suppose  I  must  be 
the  one  after  all,  and  in  the  end  I 
shall  have  to  accept  him.  But — 
but  I  shall  always  love  Saville 
best !  " 

"Saville.?  "  exclaimed  Lady  Mal- 
linger,  in  astonishment.  "  Sav- 
ille.?" 

"  If  you  knew  him  as  I  do,  you 
would  not  wonder  that  I  love  him," 
said  Felicia,  blushing  deeply,  "he 
is  so  chivalrous,  so  noble,  so  un- 
selfish, just  like  King  Arthur  in 
Lord  Tennyson.  And  to  hear  him 
speak  of  women  !  He  thinks  we 
are  all  angels.  I  am  so  afraid, 
dear  Lady  Mallinger,  lest  he  may 
be  disappointed  in  us,  because  we 
are  not  all  angels,  are  we  ? " 

Lady  Mallinger  all  this  time  had 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  ground,  and, 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  71 

but  for  her  gentle  breathing,  be- 
trayed no  signs  of  animation.  At 
the  girl's  question,  however,  she 
stirred. 

"Has  Saville  told  you — has  he 
said — has  he  spoken ?  " 

"He  knows  that  I  love  him,'' 
said  Felicia,  faintly. 

"  But  has  he  asked  you  to  be  his 
wife  ? " 

"Not  in  so  many  words,  but 
words  are  not  everything.  He  is 
not  rich  ;  he  is  afraid  people  might 
say — you  know  what  they  always 
say.  Once  he  told  me  he  wished  I 
had  no  money — that  I  was  poor 
and  unknown.  Oh,  I  understand 
him  so  well." 

"  I  am  sure  your  family  would 
not  care  for  the  match, "said  Lilian, 
at  last ;  "and  evidently  they  have 
set  their  hearts  on  Wiche.  Wiche 
is  rather  odd,  but  I  was  only  think- 
ing last  night  what  a   fine  face  he 


72  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

has  :  he  would  make  you  a  kind 
husband,  and  you  would  be 
quite  contented — after  a  little." 
The  foolishest  of  mortals  may  often 
be  startled  into  a  certain  sagacity  ; 
and  Felicia's  innocence  had  the 
effect  of  rousing  Lady  Mallinger's 
common-sense  which,  though  un- 
disciplined and  kitten-like,  was  still 
promising. 

"No  doubt,"  she  continued,  look- 
ing gravely  at  the  girl's  anxious 
face,  "Saville  is  most  agreeable, 
and  it  is  very  pleasing  to  think  that 
such  a  handsome,  popular  fellow  is 
in  love  with  one.  But  would  you 
feel  so  flattered  if  he  were  plain  :  if 
you  heard,  for  instance,  that  he 
was  fickle,  mercenary,  and  treach- 
erous !  " 

"But  I  might  hear  that  of  Wiche, 
too,"  said  Felicia.  "You  see,  dear 
Lady  Mallinger,  I  must  believe  in 
some  man  or   I  could  not   marry  at 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  73 

all !  And  I  would  rather  be  deceived 
by  Saville  than  adored  by  Sidney 
Wiche  !  " 

"That  is  absurd.  I  should  be 
very  wrong  to  encourage  you  in 
such  ideas.  When  you  are  older 
you  will  see  how  foolish  it  is  to 
indulge  in  these  fancies  !  " 

"I  am  afraid  you  do  not  like 
Saville, "  said  Felicia,  suddenly. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  said  Lilian, 
with  great  dignity,  "it  is  only 
because  I  am  Saville's  friend  that  I 
understand  your  point  of  view  !  " 

"Then  why  are  you  so  angry 
with  me  for  loving  him  ?  I  am  sure 
you  would  not  care  for  any  one  who 
was  not  noble  and  generous — you 
would  not  be  his  friend  if  he  did  not 
have  fine  qualities  !  " 

Conversation  between  a  disillu- 
sioned devotee  and  an  enthusiastic 
novice  is  always  difficult  :  the  dis- 
illusioned fears  to  be  candid,  and  the 


74  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

enthusiast  fears  nothing- ;  one  has 
not  learnt  enough,  the  other  has  all 
to  leani.  This,  then,  was  the  situ- 
ation of  Lady  Mallinger  and  Felicia. 
To  one,  Saville  seemed  a  traitor; 
to  the  other,  he  was  a  being  with 
neither  body,  soul,  nor  passions — a 
portable  ideal  who,  at  his  sublimest, 
murmured,  * '  I  love  you  !  "  Rookes 
was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  mortal 
whose  good  intentions  andgenerous 
admiration  for  the  admirable  were 
not  steady  enough  to  carry  the  load 
of  a  fashionable  education,  nor 
robust  enough  to  endure  the  nip- 
ping cruelty  of  society  small  talk. 
He  feared  his  better  instincts  as  the 
pious  do  their  besetting  sins,  and 
when  he  was  surprised  into  one  of 
his  natural  virtues,  his  first  precau- 
tion was  to  make  it  appear  a  polite 
vice. 

"  I  will  not  say  one  word  against 
Saville,"    said    Lady    ^Mallinger,    at 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  75 

last.  ' '  I  would  rather  not  discuss 
him.  In  any  case  I  can  only  im- 
plore you  to  obey  your  relatives  : 
after  all  they  must  know  best." 

"Then,"  said  Felicia,  "it  would 
be  useless  to  ask  you  to  help  me." 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  Lady 
Mallinger ;  "what  is  there  that  I 
could  do  ? " 

"  Well, "  said  Felicia,  "  you  see  I 
am  not  yet  engaged  to  Mr.  Wiche. 
If  he  could  only  be  made  not  to  pro- 
pose, everything  would  come  right 
Dear  Lady  Mallinger,  if  you  would 
only  distract  his  attention  :  you  are 
so  much  prettier  than  I  am,  and  I 
am  sure  he  would  be  far  more 
influenced  by  you  than  he  ever 
could  be  by  me.  Oh,  please  prom- 
ise me  that  you  will  try." 

This  suggestion  was  not  without 
its  charm.  Lilian  had  a  certain  lik- 
ing for  Wiche  :  he  appealed  to  her 
head  rather  than  to  her  imagination, 


76  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

to  her  sympathies  rather  than  to  her 
senses  :  and,  though  he  did  not  in- 
spire her  with  poetic  thoughts,  he 
made  the  prose  of  her  existence 
seem  less  like  prose. 

"Perhaps  there  would  be  no 
harm,"  she  said,  "and  yet " 

"Oh,  do  promise,"  said  Felicia, 
"my  life  and  soul  are  bound  up  in 
it" 

"One  can  tie  a  great  many  knots 
in  one's  life  and  soul,"  said  Lady 
Mallinger. 

"But  love  is  so  mysterious — so 
wonderful.  It  is  the  music  of  the 
world." 

"It  is  a  pity  that  it  goes  so  often 
out  of  tune  !  "  said  Lilian.  "  Oh," 
she  added  suddenly,  ' '  our  life  is  on 
so  small  a  scale  :  everything  seems 
so  pretty !  Are  women  only  bom 
to  fall  in  love  with  men  like  Saville 
Rookes  ?  Why  do  we  do  these 
things  ? " 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  "n 

"Because  there  is  nothing  else 
for  us  to  do,  I  suppose,"  said 
Felicia. 

"But  think  of  all  these  clever 
women  who  paint  pictures,  and 
make  speeches,  and  write  for  the 
papers,  and  sing,  and  act,  and  play. 
Ah,  how  grand  it  must  be  to  have 
something  serious  to  think  of!  " 

"I  believe  they  get  very  tired  of 
it,"  said  Felicia.  "I  am  sure  they 
are  not  half  so  happy  as  we  are. " 

"  Are  we  happy  ?  "  said  Lilian. 

"Of  course  we  are,"  replied  the 
young  girl.  ' '  What  a  strange  ques- 
tion ! " 

"Perhaps  it  is  strange.  I  feel 
tired. " 

' '  And  you  look  pale, "  said  Felicia. 
"Let  me  fetch  you  my  scent-bottle. " 
She  ran  lightly  across  the  lawn  and 
up  the  Terrace  steps  without  per- 
ceiving Saville  who  was  returning 
from  another  direction. 


7  8  A    BUNDLE    OF   LIFE. 

He  came  close  to  Lady  Mallinger 
and  looked  into  her  face. 

"You  do  not  look  well,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  well  enough." 

' '  Did  that  poor  little  thing  bore 
you  ?  " 

"Not  at  all." 

"Why  are  you  so  curt  ? " 

"Ami?" 

"Have  I  offended  you ?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Lady  Mallinger. 
"But  you  know  quite  well  what 
Felicia  has  been  talking  about. 
You  have  acted  abominably. " 

"What  have  I  done?"  asked 
Rookes.  "Is  it  a  crime  to  pay  a 
few  silly  compliments  to  a  child  ? 
She  is  hardly  more.  You  are  surely 
not  jealous?  You  know  you  are 
the  only  woman  I  really  care  for. 
A  man  may  love  various  women 
for  various  reasons  at  all  times  of 
his  life,  but  he  can  only  love  once, 
one   way.     Each  experience  is  to- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  79 

tally  different,  and  absolutely  new  ; 
only  one,  however,  can  be  quite 
satisfactory.  Now  to  love  you  is 
my  second  nature  ;  it  is  part  of  my 
constitution.  If  you  do  not  trust 
me,  why  did  you  encourage  me  ?  " 
"Why?"  said  Lady  Mallinger, 
with  flashing  eyes.  "Why?  Do 
you  ask  me  why  ?  I  will  not  lie  to 
you,  I  loved  you  because  I  thought 
you  loved  me — because  I  felt  that 
you  would  help  me,  you,  who  were 
so  much  stronger,  so  much  nobler, 
so  much  braver  than  I.  When  you 
said  .  ,  .  when  you  seemed  to  think 
I  had  some  beauty,  I  longed  to  be 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  women, 
that  you  might  be  proud  of  me :  I 
longed  to  be  royal  that  I  might 
throw  aside  my  royalty  and  show 
the  world  that  I  would  rather  be 
ruled  by  you  than  rule  a  kingdom  : 
I  wanted  a  palace  that  I  might  leave 
it  and  follow  you  into  darkness  and 


8o  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

poverty  :  I  wished  that  we  lived  in 
times  of  danger  that  I  might  save 
you  from  death,  that  I  might  lie  for 
you,  hate  for  you,  steal  for  you,  die 
for  you  !  How  I  have  loved  you  ! 
how  have  you  deceived  me  !  I  have 
nothing  left  but  contempt  for  both 
of  us.  .  .   .     Stay  there  ! " 

She  walked  away  alone,  and  as 
he  felt  too  ashamed  to  follow  her 
footsteps,  he  chose  another  path, 
and  was  therefore  late  for  luncheon. 
A  fact  which  showed  the  injured 
woman  that  her  words  had  played 
some  havoc  with  his  conscience. 


rv. 


IR  VENTRY  had  been  trying 
since  noon  to  exchange  a 
few  words  of  immense  im- 
portance with  his  sister.  At 
last,  in  the  drawing-room  after 
luncheon,  he  found  the  moment. 
Teresa  was  playing  the  piano  :  Van 
Huyster  and  Felicia  were  within 
sight  on  the  lawn.  Lady  Mallinger 
was  cooing  to  some  love-birds  in  a 
gilt  cage  which  hung  near  the  win- 
dow. Lady  Twacorbie  sat  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  others,  embroider- 
ing an  altar-cloth.     She  was  a  being- 

about  five-and-thirty,  dressed  with 
6  8i 


82  A    BUXDLE    OF    LIFE. 

elegaiice,  but  with  no  attempt  at 
individuality.  No  doubt  eleven  out 
of  every  dozen  women  in  her  own 
station  were  wearing  gowns  of  the 
same  hue,  make,  and  texture.  Her 
hair  was  flaxen  and  arranged  in  the 
artificial,  half-grotesque  style  com- 
manded by  Court  hair-dressers  :  at 
a  first  glance  she  looked  like  a  wax 
doll — the  unchanging  expression, 
the  neat,  set  features,  the  unseeing 
eyes,  had  not  the  divine  impress. 
Yet  she  lived  and  was  a  woman  : 
without  her  false  curls,  her  whale- 
bones, and  her  stare,  she  was  even 
beautiful  :  in  unguarded  moments, 
she  was  witty.  She  was  not 
accomplished,  however,  and  had  no 
force  of  will :  the  winds  of  opinion 
blew  her  feather-like  round  the  four 
comers  of  her  boudoir.  But  in  her 
way  she  was  perfectly  happy :  she 
sighed  for  no  new  experiences  and 

wept  over  no  old  ones  :    life  pre- 
6 


A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  S3 

sented  no  enigmas,  and,  feeling 
neither  sorrow  nor  wonder,  she  had 
no  need  of  philosophy.  She  read 
nothing,  but  was  extraordinarily 
observant,  and  had  a  most  tenacious 
memory  for  little  things.  For 
instance,  she  could  quote  whole 
conversations,  and  describe  to  a 
half-turn  just  how  this  one  entered 
a  room,  that  one  shook  hands,  and 
the  other  sat  down  :  she  delighted 
afternoon  callers  by  remembering 
how  each  liked  his  or  her  tea — A. 
never  took  sugar,  B.  liked  three 
large  lumps  or  four  small  ones,  C. 
only  drank  hot  water,  D.  could  not 
bear  the  sight  of  cream,  and  so 
on.  This  was  the  lighter  side  of 
her  character :  she  had  a  certain 
amount  of  sentiment,  and  would 
have  made  a  devoted  wife  and 
mother  of  the  primitive  type.  But 
the  creatures  of  her  world  were 
bored  by  devotion,  so  she  flirted  in 


84  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

the  most  religious  manner  possible, 
and  had  an  Infants'  Bible-Class. 

"My  dear  Charlotte,"  said  Sir 
Ventry,  "has  it  never  occurred  to 
you  that  Van  Huyster  is  deeply 
interested  in  Felicia  ?  I  have  ob- 
served it  for  days." 

"You  are  always  making  un- 
necessary discoveries,"  replied  his 
sister,  "  You  know  my  plans  with 
regard  to  Felicia.  Wiche  will  cer- 
tainly speak  to  her  either  to-day  or 
to-morrow. " 

' '  Van  Huyster  is  a  far  more 
desirable  match  :  he  is  not  only 
richer,  but  more  tractable,"  said  Sir 
Ventry.  "If  he  were  to  speak 
first " 

"As  you  say,"  murmured  her 
ladyship,    "he  is  enormously  rich. " 

"Precisely:  that  is  my  point. 
And  he  goes  everywhere." 

"  But  then  Wiche  is  such  a  power 
in  politics,"  said  Lady  Twacorbie  ; 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  85 

"  think  what  good  we  could  do  by 
our  influence  over  him  !  " 

"  The  country  would  be  far  more 
grateful, "  said  Sir  Ventry,  ' '  if  we 
helped  Van  Huyster  to  spend  his 
money  in  a  gentlemanly  manner. 
However,  it  is  your  affair  not  mine. 
I  have  made  a  suggestion  :  act  on 
it  or  not,  as  you  please,"  and  he 
strutted  magnificently  from  her 
presence. 

For  some  moments  Lady  Twacor- 
bie  did  not  ply  her  needle,  but  un- 
picked the  stitches  she  had  taken 
during  the  preceding  conversation. 
At  last  she  called  Lilian.  "  Come 
and  talk  to  me,  my  dear,"  she  said  ; 
"  I  have  not  had  a  word  with  you 
since  breakfast.  You  see  I  drove 
Harold  to  the  station " — (Lord 
Twacorbie  had  gone  to  town  for  a 
few  days) — "  He  was  so  sorry  to 
leave  us."  She  glanced  at  Van 
Huyster  and  Felicia  who  passed  the 


86  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE 

window.  "  We  are  so  anxious 
about  Felicia,"  she  said  ;  ' '  young 
girls  are  so  flighty — is  it  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  they  are  competent 
to  select  the  right  sort  of  man  ? 
Ah,  if  women  would  only  choose 
their  husbands  as  carefully  as  they 
do  their  bonnets,  how  much  brighter 
life  would  be  !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  Lady  Twacorbie, 
what  would  you  call  the  right  sort 
of  husband  ? " 

"  A  man,"  she  replied,  "  with 
means,  position,  a  good  digestion, 
and  sound  principles  :  such  a  per- 
son, for  instance,  as  this  excellent, 
kind-hearted,  and  deserving  Van 
Huyster  ! " 

"  Van  Huyster  !  "said  Lady  Mai- 
linger,  in  surprise. 

' '  Yes.  Have  you  observed  how 
extremely  attentive  he  is  to  Fe- 
licia ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  have,  Jiow  you  speal; 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  87 

of  it,"  said  Lilian,  "  but  I  thought 

Mr.  Wiche " 

"Ah!"  said  Lady  Twacorbie, 
"  Mr.  Wiche  is  all  very  well  in  his 
proper  place.  I  have  the  greatest 
respect  for  his  undeniable  merits. 
I  hope,  however — I  earnestly  hope 
that  he  will  not  do  anything  rash. 
In  fact,  I  may  as  well  confess  that 
I  am  in  a  difficulty.  As  Harold  was 
obliged  to  go  to  town  to-day,  and 
as  Ventry  is  not  well,  I  asked  Mr. 
Wiche  if  he  would  escort  Felicia  and 
myself  to  the  Bishop's  Bazaar  this 
afternoon.  I  see  now  that  it  might 
cause  gossip  in  the  neighborhood  : 
people  make  such  absurd  remarks. 
Besides,  I  fear  it  is  scarcely  kind  to 
throw  the  poor  man  so  frequently 
in  the  dear  child's  society.  Do  you 
think  you  could  keep  him  amused 
in  some  way  until  we  have  left  the 
house  :  we  can  pretend  that  there 
was  some  blunder  and  perhaps  take 


88  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

Mr.  Van  Huyster.  .  .  .  These  things 
are  difficult  to  explain." 

"  I  think  I  understand, "  said  Lady 
Mallinger :  "of  course,  I  will  do 
anything  to  make  myself  useful 
But  I  must  at  least  change  my 
gown :  I  heard  him  say  that  he 
liked  my  blue  muslin  ! '"  She  went 
out  laughing  so  gaily,  that  Teresa, 
who  was  playing  mournful  music, 
left  the  piano  and  came  down  to  her 
cousin. 

"  What  is  the  joke  ?  "  she  asked. 

Lady  Twacorbie  did  not  hesitate 
over  her  reply.  She  had  made  up 
her  mind  that  Teresa  was  dying  of 
love  for  the  elegant  Ventry  and 
would  therefore  have  no  interest  in 
the  matrimonal  schemes  with  regard 
to  Sidney  Wiche. 

"  Ventry  has  convinced  me  with 
regard  to  Van  Huyster  and  Felicia,  •' 
she  said,  at  once.  "  Obstinacy  is 
not  one  of  my   faults,    and   I   am 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  89 

never  deaf  to  reason.  I  have 
arranged  everything  in  the  most 
charming  way  :  Lilian  has  agreed 
to  distract  Mr.  Wiche's  attention. 
Of  course,  dear,  I  would  have  asked 
you,  but  you  are  much  too  clever  ! 
One  can  only  trust  a  fool  to  carry 
out  a  plot  of  this  kind  with  success. 
She  is  such  a  simpleton — just  the 
silly  creature  to  hoodwink  a  man  of 
genius  !  '* 

"Oh,  this  is  too  much!"  said 
Teresa.  "  I  assure  you  a  more  ac- 
complished actress  never  lived. 
She  is  far  cleverer  than  either  of  us. " 

"  Absurd  !  Impossible  !  "  said 
Lady  Twacorbie. 

"  There  is  nothing  easier  than  the 
impossible — for  Lady  Mallinger. 
But  I  am  sure  that  Sidney  will  see 
through  her  nonsense  at  once ;  you 
must  remember  that  he  is  my  friend 
and  I  have  known  him  for  years  : 
your  plan  will  not  succeed." 


90  A    BUXDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"  But  he  admires  her  extremely," 
said  Lady  Twacorbie. 

"  Has  he  ever  told  you  so  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not :  it  is  because  he 
has  never  said  so,  that  I  am  certain 
of  it.  Men  are  dreadfully  discreet, 
my  dear  Teresa.  I  only  believe  in 
what  they  do  not  say.  But  come, 
we  must  leave  the  coast  clear, 
come  !  " 

Teresa  followed  her  slowly. 


ADY  MALLINGER  reentered 
the  room  a  few  moments 
later,  in  all  her  bravery  of 
*^^  blue  muslin,  ribbons,  and  lace. 
She  was  cooing  to  the  love-birds 
when  Wiche  came  in.  His  acquaint- 
ance with  Lady  Mallinger  had  ex- 
tended over  some  four  years  :  from 
her  point  of  view  it  might  have  been 
called  a  dinner-party  friendship — 
that  is  to  say,  they  could  discuss 
people  and  subjects  of  the  hour  with 
a  freedom  which  passes  well  enough 
for  intimacy  in  the  vagueness, 
bustle,  and  gigantic  pettiness  of  a 
London     season.      But    to    Wiche 

91 


92  A   BUNDLE   OF    LIFE. 

their  occasional  meetings  and  in- 
terchange of  ideas  had  meant  much 
more ;  the  man  of  letters  is  not  a 
man  of  letters  if  he  accepts  life  and 
the  circumstances  of  life  as  they 
appear  at  first  sight — it  is  the  prime 
instinct  of  his  nature  to  reject  what 
seems  and  to  clutch — or  die  in  fail- 
ing to  clutch — things  not  as  they 
are,  but  as  his  imagination  would 
have  them.  To  be  brief,  our  friend 
had  fallen  in  love  with  the  idea  of 
loving  Lady  Mallinger. 

"Do  I  disturb  you.?"  he  said, 
and  took  a  seat  near  her.  She 
smiled  at  him  and  made  a  charming 
grimace  at  her  pets. 

"There  is  a  bazaar  at  the  Bishop's 
this  afternoon,"  he  continued,  "and 
I  believe  I  was  expected  to  go,  but 
as  Van  Huyster  enjoys  these  things 
and  I  do  not,  I  have  asked  Lady 
Twacorbie  to  take  him  in  my  stead. 
I  hope  she  will  not  be  offended,  but 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  93 

I  really  wanted  to  get  a  quiet  hour 
with  you." 

Her  heart  jumped  and  she  studied 
him  with  a  new  interest.  There  is 
one  glory  of  the  friend,  and  another 
glory  of  the  possible  lover.  For 
the  first  time  she  discovered  that  he 
had  a  certain  intensity,  a  masterful 
air,  a  look  of  determination — all  of 
which  she  admired. 

"We  have  so  few  opportunities  to 
speak  to  each  other,"  he  said. 

' '  You  have  changed  since  I  first 
knew  you,"  cried  Lady  Mallinger  : 
"  we  were  such  good  friends  once, 
and  now — when  we  meet — I  hardly 
know  how  to  describe  it — there  is  a 
coldness,  a  restraint.  I  have  feared 
that  you  did  not  like  me.  But  I  am 
saying  too  much." 

"If  I  told  you  that  there  was 
indeed  a  reason  for  my  restraint, 
would  you  care  ? " 

She  put  her  lips  to  the  cage  and 


94  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE, 

piped,  apparently  to  the  birds — 
"Tell  me  the  reason  !  " 

"Have  you  never  guessed  it? 
was  I  so  hard  to  understand  ?  " 

"  I  could  never  understand  any 
man,  but  then  a  man  never  seems 
able  to  explain  himself,  does  he  ? " 

"  It  may  be  that  he  dare  not  try," 
said  Wiche. 

"What  could  he  fear?''  she 
asked;  "can  it  be  that  men  know 
how  unstable  they  are  ?  I  always 
thought  they  could  not,  because 
they  never  try  to  be  firmer.  And  I 
love  firmness  !  Now  we  women 
know  only  too  well  that  we  are 
very  weak,  very  foolish,  very  shal- 
low, and  we  wonder  what  men  can 
see  in  us  !  We  must  be  so  tiresome  ! 
such  burdens  !  such  unnecessary 
evils  !  such  tedious,  provoking  crea- 
tures !  Some  of  us  may  have  some 
beauty ;  yet  that  soon  goes,  and 
then  there  is  nothing  left  of  us  but 


A   BUNDLE   OF   LIFE.  95 

a  headache  !  Oh,  do  not  look  sur- 
prised :  I  fear  I  am  growing  cynical. 
I  am  beginning  to  agree  with  many 
of  your  views  on  the  soul,  and 
death,  and  marriage,  and  things  of 
that  order  !  " 

"Ah!  never  trust  a  man's  opin- 
ion on  any  subject  until  he  has  been 
in  love,"  said  Wiche.  "  Love  is  the 
only  thing  which  can  make  life  as 
clear  as  noon-day." 

' '  Then  I  suppose  you  still  find  it 
dark  and  perplexing  !  Dear  me ! 
how  idly  I  talk.  I  meant  to  say — 
but  would  it  be  impertinent  ?  I  was 
only  thinking  that  a  day,  an  hour, 
perhaps  a  few  words  might  make 
all  the  difference  in  your  ideas  !  " 

"If  I  told  you,"  said  Wiche, 
"that  sleeping  and  waking  I 
heard  but  one  voice,  saw  but  one 
face. " 

' '  Does  it  bore  you  ?  "  she  asked  ; 
'  •  would  you  rather  not  see  it  ? " 


9t»  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"Each  day,'"  he  continued,  "it 
grows  dearer  to  me,  more  beautiful, 
more — ah  !  if  I  waited  until  I  were 
more  eloquent  I  would  never  speak, 
never  tell  you  my  one  hope,  my  one 
aim,  my  one  ambition — above  all 
things,  beyond  all  things,  before  all 
things.  Just — to  gain  you  ;  to  gain 
you — just  that.  I  would  not  own 
it  was  impossible,  I  only  saw  you, 
loved  you  and  waited.  You  passed 
me  by,  you  hardly  knew  me.  I 
was  only  one  in  a  crowded  world. 
A  friend  ?  Yes,  when  you  remem- 
bered me.  Was  that  often  ?  Some- 
times we  talked  together :  once  I 
wrapped  you  in  your  opera  cloak, 
have  you  forgotten  ?  I  touched 
your  cheek — it  was  an  accident. " 

"As  you  say,"  murmured  Lilian, 
"it  only  happened  once." 

"Another  time  you  leant  for  a 
moment  on  my  arm." 

"  That  was  a  year  ago. " 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  97 

"In  March,"  he  said,  "it  was  a 
perfect  night." 

"Oh,  no  !  it  rained." 

"A  perfect  night,"  he  repeated, 
moving  nearer,  "and  you  never 
guessed  how  much  I  loved  you — 
how  much  you  were  to  me,  how 
much  I  loved  you  !  How  beauti- 
ful,  how  very  beautiful "     He 

kissed  her. 

Lady  Mallinger  started  away  in  a 
sudden  panic.  "I  did  not  mean  to 
say  so  much, "  she  said.  * '  I  did  not 
mean — but  hark  !  "  She  put  her 
finger  to  her  lips  and  flew  across 
the  room  into  a  large  chair  with 
wide  arms.  These  concealed  her 
from  Teresa  Warcop  who  now  en- 
tered. She  was  evidently  much 
agitated  in  spite  of  her  quiet  manr 
ner.  "I  am  so  glad  to  find  you 
alone, "  she  said  to  Wiche,  ' '  because 
I  must  speak  to  you.  But  first  let 
me  say,  in  justice  to  myself,  that  I 


yi  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE, 

am  not  a  mischief-maker.  If  I  ever 
seem  meddlesome  it  is  only  because 
I  am  so  interested  in  my  friends 
that  I  cannot  remain  silent  when 
speech  would  be  of  service  to 
them." 

"  You  have  too  much  heart, "  said 
Wiche. 

"I  cannot  bear  to  see  a  man  de- 
ceived, trifled  with,  made  a  jest  for 
chattering  vixens ! "  said  Teresa, 
passionately. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  he  rarely 
shows  gratitude  if  one  endeavors  to 
enlighten  him." 

"A  thankless  task,  I  know,"  said 
Teresa;  "but  if  we  only  do  our  duty 
for  the  sake  of  being  thanked  we  are 
miserable  creatures.  .  .  O  Sidney  ! 
never  trust  a  woman  !  At  least, 
never  trust  blue  eyes  !  Oh  !  when 
I  think  of  it,  I  lose  all  patience, 
almost  all  charity.  That  such  a 
man  should  be  duped  by  such  a 
7 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  99 

woman  !  Woman,  did  I  say  ?  No, 
a  mere  bundle  of  fire  and  frivolity  !  " 

"How  much  more  promising 
than  mere  flesh  and  blood,"  ex- 
claimed Wiche. 

"She  made  a  bargain,"  said  Te- 
resa, "a  kind  of  wager — that  she 
would  force  you  into  a  flirtation. 
And  she  thinks  she  is  succeeding : 
she  even  began  her  machinations  at 
luncheon.  I  saw  it  all :  her  looks, 
laughs,  sighs.  Oh,  it  was  insup- 
portable ! " 

"Are  you  speaking  of  poor  little 
Felicia  ? "  said  Wiche. 

"Felicia?"  said  Teresa.  "Feli- 
cia? When  I  speak  of  a  creature 
with  neither  heart,  morals,  mind, 
nor  beauty — a  heap  of  lies,  vanity 
and  affectation — I  mean  Lady  Mal- 
linger." 

Wiche  grew  so  pale  that  Teresa — 
half  with  jealousy  and  half  with 
fright — grew     even      paler.        She 


lOO  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

held  out  both  her  trembling  hands 
and  stumbled  blindly  towards 
him. 

"My  heart  has  been  with  you," 
she  stammered.  "  I  feel  it  all,  see 
it  all,  know  it  all.'' 

What  she  meant  she  hardly  knew. 
He  neither  looked  nor  uttered  a 
reply;  but,  brushing  past  her  with 
a  gesture  hard  to  translate,  walked 
to  the  window.  A  stillness  almost 
like  some  grim  and  living  presence 
filled  the  room.  Teresa  remained 
in  her  rigid  attitude,  staring,  with 
despairing  tenderness,  not  at  the 
man,  but  at  the  place  where  he  had 
stood. 

"A  wager!  a  bargain!"  said 
Wiche,  at  last.  "I  do  not  under- 
stand." 

"Nor  did  I  when  I  first  heard 
it,"  said  Teresa.  "I  could  scarcely 
believe  anything  so  odious,  even  of 
her.       And   I   have   heard   a   good 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  lOI 

many  stories,  too  !  But  Charlotte 
explained  the  matter  only  too 
clearly.  Lilian  was  to  distract  you. 
That  was  the  expression  :  her  own 
words."  She  paused  a  moment. 
Wiche  never  stirred,  but  kept  one 
unchanging  expression,  which  be- 
trayed nothing  save  its  unchange- 
ableness.  "  Have  I  been  wrong  to 
tell  you  ? "  she  went  on  ;  "  have  I 
been  wrong?  But  friendship,  my 
sense  of  justice,  and  you — the 
noblest  man  I  know,  the  one  above 
all  others  I — I  respect." 

"I  do  not  understand  you — or 
her,"  said  Wiche,  at  last. 

"My  dear  friend,  men  only  un- 
derstand  the  kind  of  woman  who  is 
more  masculine  than  a  man  !  .  .  . 
But,  Sidney,  are  you  vexed  with 
me?  Have  I  been  too  zealous? 
You  know,  you  surely  believe  I 
meant  no  malice  ?  Yet  I  cannot 
say   that   I   feel  any   kindness   for 


I02  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

Lady  Mallinger  ;  that  would  be  im- 
possible.    I  despise  her  ! " 

"  Is  that  necessary  ?  "  said  Wiche. 

"Can  I  forgive  her  conduct  to- 
wards yourself  ?  Not  that  she  has 
succeeded  in  fooling  you.  But  the 
attempt — I  cannot  forgive  the  at- 
tempt. What  impudence !  what 
presumption  ! " 

"Ah,  there  you  are  unjust !  The 
feat  was  well  within  her  power  :  I 
was  only  too  willing  to  be  fooled. " 

' '  Willing  !  "  cried  Teresa. 
"  Where  is  your  spirit  ?  How  weak 
a  man  is  after  all  !  What  a  mercy 
that  she  cannot  hear  you  :  it  would 
make  her  even  vainer  than  she  is 
by  nature. " 

"I  fear  we  are  growing  too  old 
and  prosaic, "  said  Wiche,  bitterly  ; 
"no  wonder  these  young  people 
try  to  rouse  us." 

"Sidney!  .  .  .  Do  I  seem  so 
old?" 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  IO3 

"No  one  would  guess  your  age," 
he  said,  without  looking  at  her. 

"Unfortunately,  you  know  it!" 
said  Teresa.  "Would  you  have 
forgiven  me,  if  I  had  made  such  a 
bargain  as  this  other  woman?  I 
think  not." 

Wiche  did  not  hear  the  remark, 
or  if  he  did,  he  made  no  reply. 

She  swallowed  a  sob  and  left  the 
room. 


VL 


ADY  MALLINGER  came  for- 
ward half-crying,  half-defiant 
"I  cannot,  I  will  not  be- 
lieve one  word  Teresa  has 
said!''  exclaimed  Wiche.  "She  is 
the  most  honest  soul  in  the  world, 
but  she  makes  mistakes." 

"You  would  be  wiser,"  said 
Lilian,  slowly,  "if  you  believed 
her." 

"So  you  admit  it,"  he  said. 
"  Do  you  think  that  Love  is  a  play- 
thing ?  a  mood  for  a  dull  afternoon  ? 
a  fi-ame  of  mind  to  jump  in  and  out 

of  just  for  amusement  ?     Is  it  noth- 
104 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I05 

ing  to  stake  your  life  on  another's, 
to  be  faithful  when  they  are  faith- 
less, strong  when  they  are  weak? 
Is  it  so  little  to  love  like  this  ?  Do 
you  think  it  is  so  easy  ?  Do  you 
think  it  brings  much  happiness  ?  " 
Until  that  hour,  the  devotion  he 
had  felt  for  Lady  Mallinger  was 
of  that  unreal  kind  which  is  only 
dangerous  so  long  as  its  object  re- 
mains an  idea.  It  was  to  a  great 
extent  theoretic,  and  based  on  the 
dogmas  of  erotic  poetry  :  in  her 
image  he  loved  a  dozen  heroines — 
not  one  woman.  Now  that  he  had 
kissed  her,  however,  and  she  had 
shown  herself  sufficiently  human 
to  rouse  his  anger,  the  whole  rela- 
tion changed.  He  no  longer  saw 
her  through  the  mist  of  sentimental 
fancy ;  she  was  simply  a  pretty 
woman  who  attracted  him.  He 
felt  vaguely  that  she  might  tempt 
him  to  say  and  do  much  which  he 


106  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

would  surely  repent  of.  He  re- 
peated again,  ' '  Do  you  think  such 
love  brings  much  happiness  ? " 

' '  Ah  !  if  you  only  knew  me  as 
I  know  myself,"  murmured  Lady 
Mallinger.  "All  that  Teresa  said 
of  me  was  true — and  yet,  not  true 
enough.  Everything  about  me  was 
falsehood  and  pretence,  until — until 
you  seemed  to  believe  in  me.  Do 
you  understand  ?  Can  you  not  see } 
Are  you  so  unforgiving,  or — are  you 
only  blind?  Why  are  you  so 
silent .? " 

She  held  out  her  hand,  which  he 
took  half  eagerly  and  half  in  dread  : 
her  lightest  touch  seemed  so  much 
more  satisfying  than  all  the  wisdom 
of  the  ancients. 

"If  I  could  only  remain  silent," 
said  Wiche,  passionately;  "if  I 
could  only  keep  you — only  feel  that 
you  were  mine — mine — mine  at  all 
risks !     Yet  no — you  act   too  well. 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  IO7 

I  could  never  know    how  much  I 
was  mistaken. " 

"Why  should  we  refuse  the 
happiness  this  hour  gives  us,  be- 
cause some  other  hour  might  take 
it  away?  In  the  meantime,  there 
can  be  no  better  thing  than  this. 
No  one  before  has  ever  cared 
whether  I  was  in  jest  or  earnest," 
she  faltered  ;  ' '  every  other  man 
takes  it  for  granted  that  I  am  heart- 
less, brainless,  and  soulless  in  any 
case.  When  I  am  serious,  they  say 
I  am  in  low  spirits  ;  when  I  am 
sincere,  they  praise  my  hypocrisy. 
So  I  take  refuge  in  deceit,  and  I 
succeed  so  well  that  now  I  have 
deceived  myself,  and  I  no  longer 
know  what  I  mean,  what  I  want, 
what  I  think,  or  what  I  am !  To 
judge  me  fairly,  you  should  have 
lived  my  life.  My  father  was  not 
kind ;  at  eighteen  I  married.  The 
world   liked   my   husband  :  he   ate 


I08  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

too  much,  drank  too  much,  and  made 
too  merry  with  other  people's  lives. 
No  one  knows  what  I  have  suffered. 
I  have  only  found  one  thing  which 
outweighs  disappointment — bitter- 
ness— all — all  that  is  harsh,  heavy 
to  bear,  and  terrible.  That  moment 
— that  one  moment  when  you  trusted 
me.  ...  It  was  so  unexpected.  I 
had  always  liked  you  as  a  friend ;  but 
you  seemed  so  far  away,  and  I 
thought  you  could  only  have  con- 
tempt for  me  and  my  vain,  hopeless 
life.  And  the  end  of  it  all.-'  Do 
you  suppose  I  never  think  of  that  ? 
Every  night  I  say  to  myself,  '  An- 
other day  has  gone  ;  another  day  of 
false  hopes,  false  friends,  false 
loves,  false  hates,  false  griefs ! ' 
Think  of  it !  Not  even  a  real  grief : 
my  life,  myself,  all — all  a  sham  !  " 
"  Help  me  to  be  as  honest  as  you 
are,"  said  Wiche :  "is  there  not 
eternity  before  us  ?  the  longest  past 


A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  lOQ 

is  but  a  second  in  comparison. 
See  !  "  he  said,  kissing  her,  ' '  we 
have  forgotten  it  already  !  " 

Men  may  still  find  oblivion  in  a 
kiss,  but  women  of  fashion  are 
always — or  nearly  always — too  self- 
conscious  to  forget  the  artificialities 
of  life  in  the  verities  of  passion. 

"Forgotten  already?"  repeated 
Lady  Mallinger,  moving  away  from 
him,  "I  wish  it  were.  Do  not  be 
angary  with  me,  but  I  must  be  alone 
a  little.  There  are  so  many  things 
to  think  about — so  many  things. 
Give  me  half-an-hour. " 

"So  much  ? "  said  her  lover. 

"  Have  we  not  eternity  before 
us  ?  "  she  replied. 

Wiche  laughed,  kissed  both  her 
hands,  and  went  out  on  to  the  Ter- 
race :  he  found  it  almost  as  delight- 
ful to  obey  her  whims  as  to  worship 
her  beauty.  Only  the  strong-mind- 
ed can  know  the  extreme  pleasure 


no  A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

of  self-surrender.  Wiche's  life  had 
been  so  hard,  so  serious,  and,  in  a 
sense,  so  wise  until  this  too-en- 
chanting present  that  he  seized  its 
madness  rather  as  a  reward  from 
the  gods  than  a  curse.  He  put  all 
thought  of  the  future  from  his  mind 
— not  because  he  feared  it,  but  be- 
cause it  possessed  no  attraction  for 
him.  Lady  Mallinger  was  an  inex- 
haustible delight :  egoism,  which  in 
any  other  woman  seemed  intoler- 
able was,  in  her  case,  the  most 
charming  thing  in  the  world  :  self- 
ishness, he  argued,  where  the  self 
was  so  perfectly  bewitching  even 
amounted  to  a  duty  :  dull,  tedious, 
and  unpleasant  beings  did  well  to 
lose  sight  of  themselves,  but  for 
Lilian  to  forget  herself  would  be 
like  a  flower  forgetting  to  bloom. 

When  Wiche  had  gone  Lilian 
paced  the  floor  and  mistook  this 
bodily   exercise    for   deep   thought. 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I  I  I 

She  was  brought  to  a  standstill  by- 
finding  herself  face  to  face  with 
Teresa,  who,  not  being  able  to  quiet 
her  soul,  had  returned  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  Wiche  once  more. 

"You  look  depressed,"  she  said 
to  Lady  Mallinger  :  "at  luncheon 
you  were  all  vivacity,  epigram,  and 
paradox.  If  you  had  not  told  me  I 
should  never  have  suspected  that 
you  considered  it  your  vocation  to 
play  the  fool  !  " 

**  Ah,  I  am  much  wiser  since  our 
conversation  this  morning,"  said 
Lady  Mallinger.  "I  am  sure  that 
the  supreme  happiness  of  a  woman's 
life  is  to  devote  herself  to  the  man 
who  loves  her  :  to  be  his  friend,  his 
ideal,  his  good  angel  !  " 

Teresa  smiled  bitterly.  "And 
the  supreme  difficulty  of  a  woman's 
life,"  she  said,  "is  to  find  the  man 
who  desires  such  devotion,  who  has 
an  ideal,   who  wanis  a  good  angel ! 


A    BUNDLE    OP    LIFE. 


The  best  of  men  only  ask  us  to  be 
forever  young  and  forever  pretty  : 
let  your  conscience  go  to  the  dogs 
but  keep  your  freshness.  Virtue 
never  yet  atoned  for  wrinkles  !  " 

"  There  I  cannot  agree  with  you, " 
said  Lady  Mallinger.  "I  am  sure 
that  there  is  nothing  so  fascinat- 
ing as  sincerity  !  It  is  so  uncom- 
mon, I  am  going  to  be  the  most 
sincere  woman  in  the  world  and  I 
must  begin  by  telling  you  that  I 
was  present  just  now  during  your 
conversation  with  Mr.  Wiche." 

"  What  conversation  ?  "  said 
Teresa. 

"Let  us  both  be  sincere,  dear 
Miss  Warcop  !  I  was  sitting  in 
that  green  chair  when  you  men- 
tioned my  name,  my  first  impulse 
was  to  rush  forward  :  curiosity, 
however,  intervened,  and  I  remain- 
ed in  my  corner.  Perhaps  this  was 
wrong,   but  my  position  was  diffi- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  II3 

cult  :  to  begin  with,  I  agreed  per- 
fectly with  every  word  you  said  : 
you  were  only  too  charitable.  I 
assured  Mr.  Wiche  of  this  after- 
wards, but  he  would  not  believe 
me.  When  I  told  him  that  I  had 
indeed  neither  mind,  morals,  heart, 
nor  beauty,  he  looked  so  incredu- 
lous, and  was  so  deaf  to  all  argu- 
ment that  I  despair  of  convincing 
him  !  Men  are  so  prejudiced. 
What  would  you  advise  me  to 
do.?" 

* '  This  sarcasm  does  not  cut !  " 
"Sarcasm!"  cried  Lilian,  "I 
was  never  more  candid,  more 
natural,  more  absolutely  trans- 
parent in  my  life.  Why  should  I 
dissemble  when  I  have  found  that 
you  know  me  even  better  than  I 
know  myself?" 

"This  innocent  air  may  deceive 
some  infatuated  man — for  a  time," 

said  Teresa,    "but  I  understand  it 
8 


114  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

too  well.  How  can  you  dare  to 
look  so  amiable  when  you  know 
that  you  hate  me.  .  .  .  You 
must  hate  me. " 

"Not  at  all :  I  think  you  are  in- 
discreet and  perhaps  too  impulsive, 
but,  on  the  whole,  I  admire  your 
character  :  it  has  a  stability,  a  dog- 
gedness,  a  courage  which  mine 
lacks.  I  would  never  have  the 
audacity,  for  instance,  to  discuss 
your  faults  with  Sir  Ventry.  He 
would,  I  hope,  be  quite  as  blind 
with  regard  to  you  as  my  future 
husband  is  where  I  am  concerned." 

"Your  future  husband.?"  said 
Teresa. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Mallinger. 
"Sidney  was  foolish  enough  to  ask 
me  to  be  his  wife — at  least,  in  so 
many  words — and  I  was  wise 
enough  to  accept  him  !  If  he  will 
only  trust  me  and  believe  in  me 
always — if  he  will  only  see  me — 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFK. 


not  as  I  am,  but  as  I  should  be — I 
am  sure  we  shall  be  happy  !  " 

"It  is  not  hard  to  be  good  when 
you  have  love  and  sympathy  and 
encouragement, "  said  Teresa,  warm- 
ly, "  but  to  be  good  when  not  one 
soul  cares  whether  you  live  or  die, 
when  your  kindest  thoughts,  your 
least  selfish  acts,  your  dearest  sac- 
rifices are  treated  alike  with  insult, 
cruelty,  and  contempt — to  be  good 
then,  that  is  the  great  achievement. 
Stand  alone,  be  indifferent  to  smiles 
and  frowns,  keep  your  eyes  steadily 
fixed  on  one  unattainable  ideal  and 
condemn  in  yourself  all  that  falls 
short  of  it,  do  that  and  I  will  call 
you  happy  !  Defy  slander,  defy 
the  malice  of  evil  tongues  and  false 
hearts,  defy  even  one  rule  of 
etiquette  !  " 

"No  woman  has  anything  to  fear 
except  the  truth,"  said  Lady  Mal- 
linger,    "so  long  as  the  truth  will 


I  1 6  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

bear  telling,  she  can  laugh  at  lies. 
They  may  for  a  time  work  mischief, 
but  only  for  a  time." 

' '  I,  too,  could  have  such  a  faith 
in  the  triumph  of  virtue  if  I  had  such 
a  lover  as  Sidney ! "  said  Teresa, 
' '  but  live  my  life  for  a  month  and 
then  tell  me  your  philosophy  !  " 

"You  look  cold,"  murmured 
Lilian,  after  a  shiver  and  a  slight 
pause. 

"  Cold  !  I  am  always  cold  :  feel 
my  hand." 

Lady  Mallinger  held  it  to  her  own 
pink  cheeks,  "  You  make  me  like 
you,"  she  said.  "As  a  rule  I  do  not 
care  for  women,  and  you  are  almost 
as  spiteful  as  the  rest.  But  there  is 
something  about  you.  .  .  .  You 
believe  me,  when  I  say  I  like 
you?" 

"Yet  you  have  robbed  me  of  my 
one  friend,"  cried  Teresa,  "you — 
you   who   have  so   much  already. 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  II7 

You  are  young  and  he  thinks  you 
are  beautiful :  I  shall  soon  be  old 
and  I  was  always  plain  :  many  men 
have  loved  my  money,  but  no  one 
has  ever  loved  me.  In  the  Convent 
— I  was  brought  up  in  a  Convent — 
the  sisters  taught  me  how  to  live  in 
Heaven:  they  forgot  I  had  to  get 
through  the  world  first.  My  parents 
are  dead  and  now  I  have  nothing  in 
this  life  except  my  wretched,  hope- 
less interest  in  a  man  who  has 
never  given  me  a  thought.  Per- 
haps I  need  not  say  that.  He  is 
the  only  man  I  know  who  has  not 
asked  me  to  marry  him,  so  I  think 
he  must  like  me  a  little.  And  he 
comes  to  see  me  very  often.  But 
you  only  care  for  him  because  he 
flatters  you,  you  are  proud  of  him 
because  he  is  distinguished,  but  I 
was  proud  of  him  when  he  was 
poor  and  obscure,  when  every  one 
thought   him   an    outcast,   when    it 


Il8  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

was  almost  a  crime  in  our  miserable 
little  corner  of  society  to  be  seen 
even  bowing-  to  him.  You  do  not 
understand  him  as  I  do  :  you  can- 
not help  him  as  I  could  :  you  play 
on  all  his  weaknesses  :  every  hour 
he  spends  with  you  will  be  a  step 
backwards.  Oh  !  he  is  no  hero  in 
my  eyes,  no  passionless,  faultless 
machine,  but  a  Man.  .  .  .  Go  !  tell 
him  all  I  have  said,  laugh  at  me, 
pity  me,  say  '  Poor  woman  !  That 
so  plain  and  dull  a  creature  should 
fall  in  love  !  How  pathetic  !  how 
ridiculous  !  '  " 

Before  Lilian  could  reply,  Teresa 
rushed  out  of  the  room.  Lady 
INIallinger  rubbed  her  eyes :  she, 
too,  had  once  loved  like  this  and 
she  had  been  deceived.  The  mere 
remembrance  of  Saville  drove  all 
other  thoughts  from  her  mind  :  she 
forgot  Wiche,  she  forgot  Teresa,  she 
forgot      everything — the     universe 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  II9 

contained  but  two  beings — herself 
and  Rookes.  Fate  brought  him  to 
her  at  that  critical  moment. 

"  I  have  been  for  a  stroll  with  Sir 
Ventry,"  he  began  awkwardly. 
"  I — I  am  wretched.  Are  you  still 
angry  ?  " 

"I  do  not  think  we  can  have 
anything  to  say  to  each  other, 
Saville,"  she  said;  "the  last 
words  were  spoken  this  morning. 
I  could  wish  they  had  been  kinder  : 
I  should  like  to  remember  that  we 
parted,  at  least  as  friends.  We 
were  so  much  to  each  other  once — 
once  we  thought  it  could  never 
come  to  this.  .  .  .  Please  leave 
me. 

"No,  I  have  been  longing  for  a 
chance  to  speak  to  you,  now  I 
have  found  it,  you  must  listen.  I 
will  not  attempt  to  defend  myself — 
I " 

"You  cannot:  how  could  you.? 


I20  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

You  might  perhaps  say  that  you 
became  desperate  about  your  debts, 
and  so  —  in  a  sort  of  madness  — 
thought  to  marry  Felicia  for  her 
money.  You  might  say — ah,  a 
thousand  things,  but  they  could 
make  no  difference.  It  is  too  late 
to  think  of  them." 

' '  Too  late  ? "  said  Rookes.  ' '  H  o w 
can  it  be  too  late  when  you  are 
there  and  I  am  here."  He  knelt 
down  by  her  side  and,  custom  prov- 
ing too  strong  for  him,  kissed  her 
cheek.  Custom  was,  perhaps,  too 
strong  for  her  also  :  at  all  events, 
she  made  no  resistance.  "You 
know  my  faults,"  he  went  on,  "  you 
could  never  have  loved  me  for  my 
perfection. " 

"I  loved  the  man  you  might 
have  been,"  she  murmured,  "not 
you  at  all. "  She  glanced  down  and 
found  her  hand  lying  in  his.  "Not 
you   at   all,"   she   repeated.      "Be- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 


121 


sides  ...  it  really  is  too  late.  I 
—  I  have  lost  the  right  to  listen  to 
you. " 


VIL 


^•N  the  meantime  Wiche's  half- 
hour  had  come  to  an  end.  The 
clock  was  chiming  five  when  he 
"^  appeared  at  the  drawing-room 
window.      Rookes    sprang    to    his 

feet :    Lady   Mallinger  affected   to 
laugh. 

"My  cousin  is  teasing  me,"  she 
said;  "he  will  not  let  me  tell  him 
that  I  am  really  a  very  serious 
woman.  He — he  does  not  believe 
in  me  as  you  do  !  "  As  she  spoke 
she  touched  Wiche's  arm  as  though 
to  assert  her  ownership.  Neither 
of   the    men     spoke :     a    footman 

122 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I23 

entered  and  announced  that  tea  was 
served  on  the  lawn. 

'  *  We  must  go  then, "  said  Lilian. 
She  led  the  way,  but  when  she 
turned,  she  found  that  only  Wiche 
had  followed  her. 

"It  is  as  well,"  she  said,  in  her 
prettiest  manner  ;  "  we  are  happier 
by  ourselves  ! "  This  was  no  doubt 
charming,  and  it  may  have  been 
true.  Wiche,  however,  was  no  less 
troubled  by  the  fact  than  the  possi- 
bility. Both  were  distracting,  for, 
at  that  moment,  he  wished  to  over- 
look her  fascination  and  think  only 
of  what  was  certain.  And  the  one 
thing  certain  was,  in  his  judgment, 
her  love  for  Rookes.  This  truth — 
like  all  truths  —  had  flashed  upon 
him  like  a  message  from  his  guardian 
angeL 

"Do  not  look  so  grave,"  said 
Lady  Mallinger  ;  "we  have  been 
serious   the  whole   afternoon,    and 


124  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

now  I  want  to  rest !  Do  you  like 
me  in  pink?  Because  I  have  the 
loveliest  pink  satin  which  I  am 
dying  to  wear  this  evening." 

"How  old  are  you.''"  he  said, 
suddenly. 

"Oh!  My  dear,  dear  Sidney! 
One  can  see  that  you  have  never 
made  love  before  !  How  old  am  I  ? 
I  forget :  I  was  bom  so  long  ago. 
I  must  be  at  least  twenty-two.  Of 
course,  I  look  even  more,  but  then 
my  life  has  been  so  unhappy.  Now 
it  will  all  be  different,  and  perhaps 
I  shall  grow  young  again.  You 
will  be  kind  to  me,  will  you  not  ? 
And  patient  ?  And  you  will  not  ex- 
pect to  find  me  very  good,  and 
very  truthful,  and  very  quiet  all  at 
once.  You  will  give  me  time  ? 
And  you  will  not  often  be  as  cross 
as  you  are  now,  will  you  ?  "  At 
length  she  saw  it  was  useless  to  ig- 
nore the  demon  who  sat   between 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  1 25 

them.  "It  was  not  my  fault,"  she 
said,  "  it  really  was  not  my  fault. 
I  told  Saville  I  had  lost  the  right 
to  listen  to  him.  And  now  you 
are  blaming  me.  It  is  so  hard 
that  I  must  always  be  made  miser- 
able— even  when  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  be  contented.  I  have 
tried  my  very  best,"  she  added, 
"to  be  happy  this  afternoon  !  " 

"Was  it  such  an  effort?"  said 
Wiche. 

"All — all  is  an  effort,"  she  an- 
swered, "  except  folly.  That  seems 
the  only  easy,  natural,  and  pleasant 
thing  in  the  world  !  " 

"  What  do  you  call  folly  ? " 

"  Everything  I  want  to  do,  every- 
thing I  want  to  say,  everything  I 
care  for — that  is  what  I  call  folly." 

"My  dear,"  said  Wiche,  "  you 
are  in  love.  And  Rookes  is  the 
man  !  " 

"Tut!     How    little    you    know 


126  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

me  !  I  admit  that  I  am  greatly  at- 
tached to  Saville — in  spite  of  his 
fauhs,  but  then  I  have  known  him 
so  long  !  But  in  love  with  him — 
never  !  We  are  the  dearest  friends 
possible,  and  quarrel  incessantly — 
but  that  is  all !  " 

' '  Are  you  sure  ?  "  said  Wiche, 
"  are  you  sure  that  is  all  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer,  but,  sooth- 
ing her  lace  which  fluttered  a  little 
in  the  breeze,  hummed  without 
knowing  it, 

"  Virtue  how  frail  it  is  ! 
Friendship  how  rare  ! 
Love,  how  it  sells  poor  bliss 
For  proud  despair !  " 

"That,"  said  Wiche,  gravely, 
"is  what  Rookes  was  singing  last 
evening." 

"Pity  me,"  she  murmured. 

"Why.?" 

"  I  adore  him  !  " 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE,  1 27 

While  we  exist  we  can  never  es- 
cape any  stage  of  development  ; 
if  our  infancy  be  prematurely  wise, 
our  years  of  discretion  will  have  an 
inappropriate  childishness.  Lilian 
was  living  life  backwards,  and  her 
sudden  moods  of  immaturity  which 
may  have  accounted  for  Rookes's 
corresponding  moods  of  fickleness, 
filled  Wiche  with  dismay.  Passion 
in  these  circumstances  was  impos- 
sible :  affection  became  angelic, 
and  sentiment  lost  all  question  of 
sex. 

"I  adore  Saville,"  she  repeated, 
and  looked  at  Wiche  with  so  be- 
seeching an  air,  with  such  utter 
helplessness  and  irresponsibility 
that  he  wondered  how  he  could 
ever  have  mistaken  her  for  a 
woman.  He  still  recognized  her 
grace  and  beauty,  but  it  roused  in 
him  the  same  kind  of  emotion  a 
man  might  feel  on  seeing  the  child 


128  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

of  one  he  had  loved  deeply  and 
who  was  dead.  It  was  a  sorrowful 
task  to  trace  the  resemblance  :  to 
note  the  likeness  in  line,  and  deli- 
cate tones  and  expression  :.  to  say- 
to  himself,  "Lilian's  mouth  had 
that  curve,  her  eyes  were  that 
color,  her  throat  was  as  white  ? " 

"You  must  forget,"  he  said, 
* '  you  must  forget — if  you  have  not 
already  forgotten — all  that  passed 
this  afternoon.  It  was  a  great  mis- 
take." 

It  was  a  great  mistake.  Lady 
Mallinger  brushed  the  echo  of  these 
words  from  her  ear  :  she  would  not 
believe  that  they  had  ever  been 
uttered.  "This  is  what  comes," 
she  thought,  "  of  telling  a  man  the 
the  truth  :  he  flies  !  " 

"You  may  have  made  a  mis- 
take," she  replied,  "  but  I  have  said 
nothing  to  you  which  I  could  ever 
wish  to  unsay.     Saville  told  me  this 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  12^ 

morning  that  men  may  fall  in  love 
dozens  of  times,  but  that  each 
experience  is  new.  They  can  only 
love  once  one  way.  This  is  true  of 
women  also.  And  it  all  comes  to 
this :  love  is  precisely  the  same 
kind  of  emotion  as  religion.  Oh,  if 
we  v/ould  only  be  as  patient  with 
human  nature  as  God  is  !  Some 
days  we  are  more  devout  than 
others  :  the  saint  who  appeals  to 
you  in  one  mood  may  repel  you  in 
another  :  this  month  we  devote  our- 
selves to  Our  Lady,  and  another  to 
St.  Paul ;  some  people,  too,  mistake 
incense  for  dogma,  and  love  of 
music  for  love  of  virtue.  But  the 
folly  and  sensuousness  of  creatures 
like  myself  cannot  touch  the  great 
unalterable  truths.  I  may  never 
know  them  as  they  are,  but  they 
have  been  known.  You  will  wonder 
what  I  am  trying  to  tell  you.  It  is 
hard  to  say  :  I  believe  I  mean  that 
9 


130  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

my  adoration  of  Saville  is  not  very- 
serious  !  " 

Wiche  was  a  man  who  had  learnt 
what  he  knew  of  human  nature 
through  self-discipline  and  not 
through  self-abandon.  Knowing 
therefore  his  own  character  and  its 
possibilities  so  well,  he  was 
astonished  to  find  that  Lilian's  was 
so  like — subject,  of  course,  to  cer- 
tain feminine  modifications.  He 
was  acquainted  with  many  men 
who  could  give  an  accurate  appraise- 
ment of  each  and  all  their  impulses, 
thoughts,  and  emotions,  who  were 
such  skilled  self-analysts  that  they 
never  by  any  chance  confounded 
their  soul  with  their  body,  or  their 
conscience  with  either.  He  had 
never  met  a  woman,  however,  who 
possessed  this  power  even  in  a  slight 
and  half-unconscious  degree ;  he 
looked  at  Lilian  and  felt  that  while 
she  had  cured  him  of  his  fit  of  love, 


A    BUNDLE    OF   LIFE.  I3I 

she  had  never  seemed  so  deeply 
interesting  as  a  fellow-creature. 

' '  My  dear, "  he  said,  '  *  you  must 
surely  see  that  we  should  be 
wretched  if  we  married." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Lilian,  "  it  would 
be  such  a  comfort  to  me  to  have 
some  one  I  could  really  trust  and 
believe  in ;  some  one  who  would 
help  me  to  be  serious  ;  to  know  one 
being  at  least  who  was  not  led  away 
by  all  manner  of  idle  fancies  !  " 

The  irony  of  the  situation  would 
have  been  ludicrous  if  it  had  not 
been  so  heart-breaking. 

"  Do  not  imagine  that  I  am  that 
one  being,"  said  Wiche,  hastily. 
•'God  knows  I  am  flimsy  enough. 
And  I  am  afraid  it  is  always  dis- 
astrous to  pin  one's  faith  to  a  mere 
mortal.  Even  the  best  of  us  are 
miserably  imperfect  as  rocks  of 
defence  ;  you  see  we  are  flesh-and- 
blood,  we  are  not  granite. " 


132  A    BUXDLE    OF    LIFE, 

"Treat  me  as  though  I  had  a 
mind,  Sidney,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
will  follow  you  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth  !  " 

"I  do  not  think,"  he  stammered, 
"we  could  ever  be  happy  to- 
gether." 

"  You  mean, "  said  Lady  Mallin- 
ger,  "  that  you  do  not  care  for  me 
in  the  way  you  thought." 

"I  will  always  be  your  friend," 

he   said,    firmly,    "but "      Her 

sense  of  what  was  just  and  meet 
told  her  that  it  only  remained  now 
to  call  her  soul  into  her  eyes,  gaze 
mournfully  at  Wiche,  and  leave  him. 
Saville  after  all  loved  her  the  besi. 

Women  like  Lady  Mallinger  havd 
to  die  young  in  order  to  be  under- 
stood :  then — and  then  not  always 
— some  onlooker  more  discerning 
than  the  others  will  see  in  the  cold 
body  some  trace  of  a  fiery  spirit  too 
ardent  and  too  restless  for  mortality. 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  1 33 

Alas  !  poor  soul.  Seeking  the  high- 
est, best,  most  beautiful,  and  purest 
— and  finding  a  Saville  Rookes. 

The  modern  is  always  an  unwill- 
ing slave  to  sentiment  :  if  he  find 
himself  captivated  by  a  romantic 
love  or  a  sublime  ideal  he  accepts 
his  state  in  the  shamefaced  and 
hopeless  certainty  that  his  common- 
sense  will  one  day  come  to  the 
rescue.  He  cannot  believe  that 
what  he  takes  for  beauty  will  always 
be  so  fair,  or  that  what  seems  good 
for  the  moment  could  be  inspiring 
forever.  Satisfaction  only  makes 
him  restless  :  he  sighs  for  happiness 
and,  having  found  it,  sighs  lest, 
after  all,  it  should  only  be  a  shadow 
cast  by  his  own  desires.  Wiche 
therefore  suffered  his  disappoint- 
ment with  smiling  patience  and  with 
something  even  of  relief;  once  he 
had  doubted  that  all  was  vanity, 
had  suspected  that    life    yet  held 


134  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

much  that  was  precious  and  desir- 
able, that  love  was  an  immortal 
fact,  and  endured.  He  felt  now  that 
he  need  struggle  no  longer  against 
despair,  and,  abandoning  himself  to 
the  intense  pleasures  of  profound 
melancholy,  became  agreeably  tired 
of  existence.  To  his  unspeakable 
resentment,  however,  one  shining 
thought  pierced  the  blackness  of  his 
thoughts.  Teresa  still  remained. 
But  she  had  never  been  his  ideal. 
Teresa  was  Teresa — a  vivid,  distinct 
personality,  a  being  whom  no 
amount  of  romantic  disguise  could 
make  seem  other  than  she  was,  and 
who  was  incomparable,  not  because 
of  her  singular  merits,  but  because 
no  one  else  had  the  same  faults. 


VIII. 

IR  VENTRY  COXE  had  been 
educated  in  the  belief  that 
his  cousin  Teresa  loved  him 
madly.  When  he  married 
Lady  Susan  Hoppe-Gardner,  a 
chorus  went  up  from  all  the  mem- 
bers of  his  family.  "What  on 
earth  will  poor  Teresa  do  ?  "  She 
was  present  at  the  wedding,  never- 
theless, and  seemed  in  the  best 
possible  spirits  :  the  relations  looked 
wise  and  murmured  that  it .  was 
impossible  for  the  unhappy  girl 
to  deceive  them.  Ventry  was 
particularly  kind  to  her ;  he  clasp- 
ed her  hand  warmly  when  he 
started    on     his    honeymoon    and 

135 


136  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

thanked  her  again  and  again  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  for  her  magnificent 
gift  in  the  shape  of  a  diamond  neck- 
lace for  his  bride  :  every  one  said  it 
was  too  touching  for  words,  several 
ladies  declared  that  Teresa  grew  as 
white  as  a  sheet  and  would  have 
swooned  if  Lord  Twacorbie,  with 
his  ready  tact,  had  not  led  her  to  the 
air. 

A  few  years  passed  ;  Miss  Warcop 
refused  all  offers  ;  Lady  Susan  died. 
This,  all  the  relations  said,  was 
Fate.  Sir  Ventry,  remembering 
Teresa's  rent-roll,  thought  so  too. 
He  decided  to  make  her  his  wife 
when  a  decent  period  of  mourning 
had  elapsed ;  there  was  no  hurry, 
she  was  there,  ready,  waiting,  and 
willing,  when  he  wanted  her. 

The  day  at  last  dawned  when  it 
seemed  convenient  to  address  her 
on  the  subject  :  he  met  her  in  the 
hall  as  she   left  the   drawinof-room 


A    BUNDLE   OF    LIFE.  1 37 

after  her  scene  with  Lady  Mallinger. 
She  was  greatly  embarrassed,  a  fact 
which  he  easily  attributed  to  her 
sudden  encounter  with  himself 
Smiling  magnanimously,  he  waited 
until  she  had  regained  her  com- 
posure. 

' '  Shall  we  go  into  the  garden  ?  " 
he  suggested. 

No,  she  was  feeling  rather  tired  ; 
she  had  a  slight  headache ;  he  would 
find  her  a  very  dull  companion. 

"Z><7  come,"  he  said,  in  his  most 
persuasive  manner. 

Teresa,  who  was  always  amused 
at  his  conceit,  and  who  had  a  moth- 
erly, pitying  affection  for  the  weak- 
nesses which  did  duty  for  his  char- 
acter, yielded  the  point  and  followed 
him.  He  began  to  talk  of  former 
days  :  he  reminded  her  of  his  five- 
and-twentieth  birthday,  when  she 
gave  him  a  hunter  and  wore  a  black 
cloak  lined  with  scarlet. 


138  A   BUXDLE    OF    LIFE. 

' '  You  look  awfully  well  in  scar- 
let," he  observed.  She  blushed: 
scarlet  was  Wiche's  favorite  color. 
Sir  Ventry,  however,  took  the  blush 
to  himself. 

"I  always  admired  you,  you 
know,"  he  said;  "there  is  not  a 
woman  in  the  family  who  has  got 
such  a  complexion,  and  your  eye- 
lashes are  so  long." 

"It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  say  so," 
said  Teresa :  "I,  myself,  do  not 
think  they  are  bad.  Once  or  twice 
I  have  thought  1  looked  quite  de- 
cent ! " 

He  glanced  at  her  sideways.  Was 
she  really  so  plain  as  all  the  women 
made  out."* 

"I  am  awfully  fond  of  you,"  he 
said  suddenly. 

Teresa  was  by  no  means  dense. 
"My  dear  Ventry,"  she  said,  with 
rather  a  nipping  air,  ''  let  us  talk 
like  reasonable  beings." 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I39 

"I  am  quite  serious,"  he  replied 
"Will  you  marry  me,  Teresa?" 

"Certainly  not.  You  must  be 
mad." 

"What!" 

"You  must  be  mad.  And  think 
yourself  very  lucky  that  I  forgive 
you  for  making  such  an  insulting 
suggestion. "  Trembling  with  anger 
she  left  him.  He  looked  up  to  see 
whether  the  Heavens  were  falling. 


IX. 


TERESA  sat  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room before  dinner  that 
evening.  The  lamps  were 
lit  and  their  hazy  light  fell 
on  the  orange  velvet  draperies,  the 
vases  of  blue  Sevres,  the  Chinese  em- 
broideries on  scarlet  satin,  the  cop- 
per bowls,  the  tiger  skins  and  the 
Indian  shawls.  Teresa  loved  colour, 
gorgeous  sunsets,  the  blare  of  trum- 
pets, loud  music — all  that  could 
send  some  note  of  the  tremendous 
into  the  undramatic  tragedy  of  her 
existence.  To-night  she  wore  a 
gown  of  silver  brocade  :  lace  con- 
cealed her  neck,  and  long  sleeves 
140 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  141 

her  arms,  but  neither  brocade  nor 
lace  could  hide  the  slight,  almost 
angular  figure  of  their  wearer.  She 
held  a  book  of  devotions  in  her  lap, 
the  leaves  of  which  she  turned  at 
random,  but  her  glance  fell  now  on 
the  clock,  and  now  on  the  mirror — 
rarely  on  the  volume  and  its  gro- 
tesque old  woodcuts  of  saints  and 
ecstatic  virgins.  At  last  the  sound 
of  footsteps  in  the  corridor  without, 
and  the  opening  of  a  door,  marred 
the  disquieting  repose  of  her  vigil. 
She  let  fall  the  book  of  prayers  : 
the  little  crash  it  made  on  striking 
the  floor  and  the  rustle  of  her  silk 
petticoat  drowned  the  words  of 
greeting  which  she  addressed  to 
Wiche,  who  now  entered. 

He  chose  a  chair  near  hers,  but 
she,  half-unconsciously,  shrank  back. 
He  was  too  engrossed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  however,  to  notice  the 
movement. 


142  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

"I  fear  I  seemed  most  ungrate- 
ful this  afternoon,"  he  said,  "but  I 
felt  quite  sure  that  you  would  one 
day  understand  Lady  Mallinger, 
and  know,  as  I  do,  the  real  woman. 
Perhaps  I  should  say  the  real  child. " 

"When  I  spoke,"  said  Teresa,  in 
a  low  voice,  "  I  did  not  know  that 
you  loved  her.  And  she  has 
charmed  away  my  prejudice  since 
then.  I  will  frankly  admit  that  I 
did  not  wish  to  discover  anything 
bewitching  either  in  her  face  or  in 
her  manner.  I  only  wanted  to 
have  the  right  to  detest  her  with  a 
clear  conscience  !  " 

"  Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  she  con- 
quered you  ? " 

"She  conquered  me,"  repeated 
Teresa,  "but  let  me  say  one  thing 
— she  is  too  romantic  :  she  lives  by 
moonlight." 

Wiche  laughed.  ' '  She  has  seen 
a  great  deal  of  the  world, "  he  said, 


A    BUNDLE    OK    LIFE.  143 

"and  I  have  often  been  struck  by 
her  extraordinary,  almost  terrible 
common-sense.  She  may  have  a 
certain  amount  of  sentimentalism  in 
her  brain,  but  at  heart  she  is  cold 
and  critical.  This  ache  to  be 
amused,  this  longing  to  hear  music 
in  the  air,  to  see  beauty  on  all  sides, 
to  find  life  one  ever-new,  yet  ever- 
abiding  pleasure,  these  are  the  fierce, 
never-gratified  desires  of  those  who 
love  only  themselves.  But  to  him 
who  loves  others — even  one  other  " 
— he  found  himself  looking  into 
Teresa's  eyes — "even  one  other — 
the  commonest  things  seem  rare, 
the  blackest  shadows  have  a  radi- 
ance indescribable,  and  the  harshest 
notes  are  heavenly  melodies  :  dis- 
appointment, bitterness,  and  deso- 
lation have  no  part  in  his  exist- 
ence ! " 

' '  These  exalted  moods  are  brief — 
terribly  brief,"  said  Teresa,    "and 


144  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

they  show  us  just  enough  of  oui 
lost  divinity  to  make  us  ever  more 
wretched  as  mere  mortals  and  chil- 
dren of  Adam.  It  is  the  day  after, 
the  days  after,  the  weeks,  months, 
years  after,  when  we  can  only  re- 
member that  once  we  were  happy  for 
half-an-hour  ! "  She  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  Wiche's  presence,  and  he 
felt  that  she  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing in  her  own  experience  in  which 
he  bore  no  part.  It  was  certain  that 
she  could  have  no  knowledge  of  his 
love-adventure  with  Lady  Mallinger, 
and  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind 
to  tell  her  the  news  just  then. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  abruptly, 
"I  have  often  wondered  why  you 
are  the  only  one  in  the  world  I  can 
talk  to  without  the  dread  of  saying 
either  more  or  less  than  I  mean." 

' '  I  will  tell  you  why, "  she  an- 
swered :  "I  could  never  misunder- 
stand you,  Sidney,  because  I  love 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I45 

you. "  Although  she  was  a  woman 
in  whom  the  coquette  was,  at  all 
events,  slumbering,  her  primmest, 
least  emotional  manner  had  the 
mysterious  charm  of  those  things 
which  we  note  unmoved  and  re- 
member with  passionate  interest. 
She  made  her  declaration  of  love  so 
quietly  that  Wiche  saw  neither  its 
oddness,  nor,  indeed,  its  full  mean- 
ing :  he  colored  a  little,  however, 
at  the  sense  her  words  might  have 
conveyed. 

"Do  not  think  I  am  choosing 
phrases  at  random,"  she  went  on, 
' '  I  meant  what  I  said.  There  is  only 
one  thing  in  my  life  which  I  can  be 
grateful  for — that  is  my  love  for 
yourself  Many  people  would  think 
it  very  unwomanly  on  my  part  to 
tell  you  this  ;  I  am  only  proud  to 
know  that  I  am  capable  of  loving 
any  one.  All  affection  seems  to 
have     been    laughed    out    of    the 


146  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

world  :  when  it  is  not  ridiculous,  it 
is  thought  hysterical.  To  me  it  re- 
mains and  always  must  remain,  the 
greatest — the  only  perfect  gift — that 
God  has  gfiven  us.  So  I  have  told 
you. "  Her  lips  trembled  a  little  as 
she  added,  ' '  I  suppose,  too,  you 
have  heard  it  already  from  Lady 
Mallinger?" 

"What  could  I  hear  from  Lady 
Mallinger,"  he  asked,  growing  more 
and  more  bewildered.  Teresa's  ex- 
pression was  so  frigid  though  her 
words  were  so  kind.  "I  am  sure 
we  are  talking  at  cross-purposes. " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she 
stammered,  "that  she  never  told 
you  all — all  I  said  to  her  this  after- 
noon ? " 

"She  has  never  uttered  your 
name. " 

Teresa  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  forced  back  her  tears.  She  had 
needlessly  betrayed  her  secret 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  1 47 

"  I  will  explain,"  she  said,  at 
last.  "  Lady  Mallinger  told  me  this 
afternoon  that  she  was  going  to 
marry  you  :  we  had  some  words  and 
I — I  confessed  quite  plainly  what 
I — I  said  just  now.  And  I  thought 
she  would  surely  repeat  it — so — in 
order  to  avoid  any  misapprehension 
— I  decided  to  let  you  hear  it  from 
me  also.  It  needed  courage,  but 
now  all  my  courage  has  gone — I 
had  only  enough  for  that.  It 
wanted  so  much.  Do  not  say  a 
word ;  please  go. " 

"  Lady  Mallinger  is  not  going  to 
marry  me,"  he  said,  quietly. 

He  touched  Teresa's  hand,  and 
conquered  his  impulse  to  kiss  it : 
that  was  not  the  moment,  nor  in- 
deed could  he  imagine  a  time  when 
it  might  be  the  moment.  She 
seemed  to  stand  in  an  enchanted 
circle.  Suddenly,  he  saw  that  she 
was  crying.     This  touch  of  weak- 


148  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

ness  seemed  to  supply  the  one 
thing  he  had  always  missed  in  her 
character.  Teresa  had,  as  a  rule,  a 
self-command  which  was  almost 
forbidding  —  even  her  occasional 
indiscretions  had  something  well- 
considered  and  reasonable.  She 
lacked  that  inconsequence,  that 
capriciousness,  that  delicious  non- 
sense which  most  men  and  all 
strong  natures  find  so  alluring  and 
adorable.  To  see  her  weeping, 
therefore,  was  to  behold  a  new 
creature,  Wiche  was  uncertain  how 
to  reply,  when  she  herself,  brushing 
the  tears  from  her  cheeks,  asked 
him  a  question. 

"  Why  ?  '■'  she  said,  "  why  are  you 
not  going  to  marry  Lady  Mallinger  ?" 

"I  want  to  tell  you  about  that," 
he  said.  "I  am  afraid  that  there  is 
not, time  to  tell  the  whole  story 
now.  But  Lady  Mallinger  dis- 
covered that  she  had  made  a  mis- 


A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  I49 

take,  she  loved  some  one  else,  and 
I  —  I  have  been  such  a  fool,  Teresa, 
such  a  fool !  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  love  you  or  not.  I  only  know 
that  I  hate  my  life  when  you  are 
not  near  me  !  "  This  truth,  which 
had  been  sleeping  so  long,  woke  at 
the  first  whisper  of  its  name  :  he 
realized  how  pitiably  little  would 
remain  to  him  if  Teresa  were  taken 
from  his  memory  :  it  was  her  very 
oneness  with  his  own  mind  which 
had  made  him  overlook  her  :  when 
he  imagined  he  was  thinking  of  him- 
self he  was  thinking  of  Teresa  also. 

"I  only  know,"'  he  said  once 
more,  "that  I  hate  my  life  when 
you  are  not  near  me  !  " 

She  could  have  wished  that  he 
had  expressed  himself  with  less  ego- 
ism ;  if  he  cared  for  her  at  all  it  was 
because  she  was  necessary  to  his 
peace  of  soul :  at  least,  so  it 
sounded.     But  she  was  a   woman 


150  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

who  found  her  happiness  in  giving 
and  loving  :  she  made  no  demands ; 
she  looked  neither  for  gratitude,  nor 
homage,  nor  appreciation  ;  she  only 
asked  the  right  to  give  and  to  love. 
So  she  gave  Wiche  her  hand ;  her 
heart  had  been  his  from  the  begin- 
ning. 

' '  Without  you,"  she  said,  "  I  have 
no  life  to  hate  1  " 

This  may  have  been  weak,  but 
Teresa  was  not  strong-minded. 
And  perhaps  it  is  as  well  for  those 
of  us  who  are  proud  and  self-reliant 
that  just  such  simple,  undignified, 
and  affectionate  creatures  are  to  be 
found  here  and  there.  They  may 
speak  for  us  on  Judgment  Day, 
which  will  be  the  longest,  darkest, 
and  coldest,  this  world  has  seen. 


(*ir>:^^X^ 


which  contains  a  letter  written 
the  same  evening  by  lady  twa- 
corbie  to  her  husband. 

"Arden  Lodge, 

'  '■  Near  Wensley, 

' '  Mertford. 
"My  dear  Harold, — I  am  so 
annoyed  and  disgusted  that  I  can 
scarcely  hold  my  pen.  Wiche  has 
proposed  to  Teresa,  and  has  been 
accepted.  What  could  be  more 
outrageous  than  such  conduct  ?  As 
for  Teresa,  you  know  I  always 
thought  her  dreadfully  sly.  How 
any  woman  could  prefer  Wiche  to 
Ventry  !     But  there,  what  on   earth 

151 


152  A    BUNDLE    OF    LIFE. 

does  Wiche  see  in  Teresa?  Van 
Huyster  told  me  in  the  course  of 
conversation  at  dinner  that  he  is 
engaged  to  some  American  person 
in  Paris,  and  that  he  hopes  to  per- 
suade her  to  marry  him  on  the 
Fourth  of  July.  We  must  really  be 
more  careful  in  future  about  whom 
we  invite  to  the  house.  Lilian  and 
Rookes  are  flirting  in  the  most  un- 
expected manner.  I  thought  they 
could  not  hear  each  other.  Nothmg 
however,  would  astonish  me  in  that 
direction  after  the  surprises  of  this 
day.  I  believe  that  I  am  the  only 
sane  person  in  the  house.  Thank 
goodness,  they  all  go  to-morrow. 
I  long  for  rest.  Felicia  seems  hys- 
terical ;  I  never  knew  a  girl  of 
seventeen  with  so  many  nerves. 
She  must  go  on  with  that  steel  tonic 
and  take  fencing  lessons. 
•  "  Your  affectionate  wife. 

"  Charlotte  Twacoreie. 


A   BUNDLE    OF    LIFE.  153 

"  P.S. — Spalding  has  just  been  in 
to  say  that  he  and  Danby  wish  to 
get  married  this  day  month  !  What 
could  be  more  tiresome  ?  I  begged 
him  to  reconsider  it,  but  he  said  it 
was  too  late.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind. 

"P.S.  No.  2. — ^Ventry  has  given 
me  to  understand  that  he  proposed 
to  Teresa  this  afternoon,  and  that 
she  seemed  quite  annoyed.  He  is 
furious,  and  blames  ME.  I  dare 
not  tell  him  about  Wiche." 


TO 

WALTER  SPINDLER. 

Ah,  not  for    me — to    learn    the    truth    by 

dreaming, 
To  hear  the  cries  of  earth  in  melody, 
To  know  'tis  night  but  when  the  stars  are 

gleaming, — 

Ah,  not  for  me. 

Music  of  form  and  colour's  mystery, 
The  joy  of  fashioning  in  fairest  seeming 
Life's  dullest  clay  and  Winter's  barest  tree ; 

To    count    the    years    as    moments — only 
deeming 

That  truly  Time  which  makes  thy  Art  to 
thee 

The  one  thing  needful  and  the  all-redeem- 
ing.— 

Ah,  not  for  me  I 

September  23,  1893. 


155 


EPILOGUE 

Spoken  by  a  Daughter  of  Eve,  who  is  weeping, 
and  an  Angel,  who  looks  out  of  fashion. 

The  Angel. 
This  is  only  Sorrow 
For  To-Day. 
Life  begins  To-Morrow  I 

A  Daughter  of  Evk. 
So  they  say. 

The  Angel. 
Life  with  love  and  laughter 
Gay  and  free — 
Yet  no  heartache  after. 

A  Daughter  of  Eve. 
Can  it  be  ? 

The  Angel. 
Life  with  work  that  reaches 
To  the  sky ; 


158  EPILOGUE. 

Life  that  never  teaches 

How  to  die. 

Life  that  is  eternal, 

Ever  young, 

Ever  bright  and  vernal 

Just  begun ! 

A  Daughter  of  Eve. 
Will  To-Morrow  ever  dawn  ? 
Shall  we  wake  that  golden  mom 
But  to  see 

All  the  treasures  gained  by  tears, 
All  the  faith  that's  won  by  fears- 
Vanity  ? 

The  Angel. 
Doubter,  look  behind  thee 
In  the  past, 

All  the  dreams  that  pleased  thee 
Did  one  last  ? 
Is  a  wish  remaining 
From  thy  youth  ? 
This  thou  art  retaining 
If  'twas  truth. 
Mortal  passions  sicken, 
Fade  away — 
Love  alone  can  quicken 
Earthly  clay. 
Paith,  and  all  endeavour 
That  is  pure, 
Hope,  and  Love,  for  ever 
These  endure. 


EPILOGUE. 


159 


All  things  else  are  folly 
To  the  wise, — 
Quit  thy  melancholy 
And  thy  sighs  I 


42184 


